


Devoid of Anything

by KirbyLuigi



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bad Decisions, Brother Feels, Depression, Electroconvulsive Therapy, Ford Pines is a Good Brother, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Insanity, Mental Health Issues, Nausea, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Side Effects, Stan Pines Has Issues, Stan Pines Has Low Self-Esteem, Stan Pines Needs A Hug, Stangst, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:14:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 38,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28518468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KirbyLuigi/pseuds/KirbyLuigi
Summary: Losing things hurt. But losing everything? That's enough to make someone break.Stanley Pines accepted the fact that he's worthless a long time ago, which lead him to spend the rest of his days in a loony bin. With a single phone call and rather horrible implications, Ford is determined to save his little bro from his crushing inner conflict.After all, he wants his brother back... but does Stan feel the same way?
Relationships: Fiddleford H. McGucket & Ford Pines, Fiddleford H. McGucket & Ford Pines & Stan Pines, Fiddleford H. McGucket & Stan Pines, Ford Pines & Stan Pines
Comments: 43
Kudos: 106





	1. Feeling Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> Hello people. KirbyLuigi here!
> 
> This is my first Gravity Falls fic, so it's probably not my best. In fact, I have a lot of ideas for fics and all of them are pretty sad. This thought came to me looking back at Stan's days on the street. I was thinking of a what-if scenario and well... here it is. I hope you enjoy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What would happen if Stan just gave up?

Life on the streets was hard...

Then again, how is it not? When you have nowhere to go, relying on the littlest things you hold dear, no comfort or solace to be found, of course it's going to be like that. There's no difference.

However... how people deal with that kind of life is different. At that point, you'll never know where they'll end up in...

People may think they can manage on their own. They don't need anybody to assist them.

At least, that's what Stanley Pines always thought.

 _Oh, how I was so wrong about that.._. He thought to himself, walking down the streets with no care for anyone. _Then again... I probably don't deserve any of it._

Stan couldn't remember how long he kept this up. How long he was on the streets by himself. In fact, from all those daily thoughts poking around his head, he couldn't care about that kind of thing anymore.

Then again... when was the last time he ever did?

_"Why would I want to be with the person that sabotaged my entire future?!"_

_"All you ever do is lie, cheat, and ride on your brother's coatails!"_

Stan felt his heart twist, hearing those memories wrack his brain. He hates it when it happens, seeing that it left this hollowness that can never be fixed. He sighed. Why is he feeling that? He thought for sure that the treatment they gave him would make those kind of feelings go away... Maybe he needed more.

His eyes moved to the side. _I need it more than ever. I've got nothing to lose at this rate. Then again, I wish I still had something to hold onto..._ With that, he made his way back into a particular building. A place where people are crazy; a place where people aren't well. Most importantly, A place where he thought he belonged.

_I've got nowhere else to go... Even then, it's always the same..._

"Stanley Pines... Welcome back."

Stan looked up at the greeting. It was the clerk, the one watching over the other messed up people in here. _What was her name again? Jade? Ava?_ He blinked. Why would he want to know? It's not like it was gonna matter in the long run. With that said, he faced the lady in uniform, not even giving any emotion. He let out a small wave, sending that gesture back at her.

The lady sighed, eyes locking onto the lost emotion in this husk of a human being. "How was your walk?" She asked.

Stanley looked away, "The usual." He wasn't even going to lie about it either. What even was the point?

"Shall I take you back to your room, Mr. Pines?"

Stanley shook his head. He faced the employee, giving a look of carelessness. "Actually... I want to go for another round of that treatment again."

"Again? But... But that's the 13th time in a-"

"I know it is." He interrupted, eyes narrowing down at her. "And I want to go for it again!"

She shook her head. "No, I think you've had enough. No person would do this that many times in a single day, and the week is not even over yet. It's not healthy for you."

Stan blinked. "What isn't healthy anymore?"

Her face hardened at that question. She put her foot down in protest. "You should be hearing yourself, Stan. This is exactly what I'm talking about! Sooner or later the side effects are going to become-"

"I don't care if it does that to me!" He rebuttled, clenching his fists. "I can take what's coming to me. So I don't care if it even ruins my brain, I want the treatment. Right. Now."

The nurse shook her head. She's not going back on her word. "My decision is final, Mr. Pines. You have to understand that If you keep this up you might-"

Stan stepped forward gripping onto the lady's forearm in protest. Her eyes widened, seeing as it was so sudden. She tried to fight back but to no avail. For the first time in years, she's never been so terrified handling these patients.

The nurse looked up to see the look on Stan's face. Emotionless as usual, but the level of aggressiveness is boring into her. As if he wanted to break her forearm at any moment. She gulped. If she didn't say her words correctly...

"Alright." She said, looking down at her arm seeing that he loosened a bit on the grip. "We'll get it ready for you..."

With that, Stan let go. "Thank you..." The anger that he suddenly felt left his body, leaving himself feeling very hollow once again. He looked down at that forearm, assessing the damage he had done. It was pretty red at the sight of it. _Must be from that dumb adrenaline..._ He sighed, feeling guilty "I'm sorry about that Miss... um... Ava was it?"

"It's... Sharon." She replied, feeling the weight of that apology. "And, I forgive you."

Stan gave a curt nod and proceeded to go to the nearest wall and lean his entire being against it, crossing his arms.

Sharon sighed, seeing this broken husk of a person deteriorate more as the weeks go by. She remembered his first days here in this loony bin. It was... not very pleasant to say the least.

The moment he stepped foot into his own room, he was screaming. Saying a bunch of nonsense that no other person but himself can understand. The nurses were shook at the raspy noises and sobs behind the door. It seems that he has hit the lowest point in his life, and it proved to be very unbearable.

Sharon shook her head, feeling so sorry for him. He's been through some shit staying here. He's not like any other patient she had to deal with in her years working here. Most of the time, the patients she worked hard to get them back on their feet gained amazing results, Often ready to see the world again, in a new light.

But not him though. Stanley Pines was not one of those people with that mentality.

He didn't want to face the world again, and he was going to keep it that way. He kept saying things like _I'm worthless. I'm a nobody. I can't do anything right with myself.... Why am I still alive....?_

Nothing seemed to change the way he was acting, all suicidal and cynical. That was until he said this one line. One that would change his life forever.

_I just don't want to feel again..._

Sharon's eyes narrowed at that memory. It wasn't a great thing to do to a person, but they were out of options. They had to go for it and grant his wish. After that procedure, the crying stopped, the screaming subsided, and he was left in a blank, emotionless state.

Somehow... doing that procedure just made things worse for him. With the inability to feel, he now sees himself as anything more than a person who gave up on life, and spends the rest of his days here... with nowhere left to go...

At this point, it seems as though he will never get any better. Not in the fair slightest. It's always going back to square one with him... except... it's only worse than initially brought in.

"Mr. Pines... The procedure is ready. Follow me."

Sharon snapped out of her thoughts as she watched Stanley follow another nurse down the halls. She looked down, looking at the patient's records, clearly seeing the many failures of trying to get him back on his feet in printed ink.

 _I failed..._ She thought to herself. _He's not getting any better... The more he does this to himself, the more he sees himself as nothing._ Sharon scanned through the papers, desperately trying to find another way to help this emotionless wreck from going a down a road to which he could never return.

Just when there was no hope for him, the nurse eyed on that strip of paper.

She remembers this. It was a phone number. Stan insisted that she should get rid of it seeing as it didn't matter to him anymore. She eyed at the phone number's name. 'Ford.'

 _Who is Ford?_ She wondered. _An old friend? A relative?_ She wouldn't know for sure, but whatever the case may be calling this number was the best option right about now.

It had to be. The other option isn't something she would be willing to see.

_Whoever this person may be... He's a last resort. If he doesn't pick up... All is lost for him._

With that, she pulled out the phone, dialed the number, and waited for the reciever to pick up.

It rang once.... It rang twice... Three times. Sharon sighed. It seems that this was about to be Game Over.

That was until the fourth ring, that someone finally decided to pick up.

"Hello? This is Stanford Pines...?"

She mentally sighed in relief. This was it.

_There is hope._


	2. A Call for Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford gets a phone call... He didn't think it was about his brother though... and he's terrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And uh... we are back! Jeez, I honestly didn't think you'd guys want me to continue this, but I did. So, here we are.
> 
> Let's go on with the story now, shall we?

Life was simple for someone in the process of living a successful future.

Anyone would want that kind of environment. Roof over their heads, responsible payments, friends and family to look forward too. It was like anything any person could ever hope to achieve.

Stanford Pines is one of those lucky people, seeing as how he worked hard to get to where he is now.

However, that journey had a few hiccups here and there. At one point in his life, he had everything planned out in front of him, all of it was mostly on his own. With his absurd intellect, excelling grades, and a promising college ahead of him, things couldn't get any better.

That was, until he remembered Stanley Pines was a part of his life.

He knows how his brother is. Always getting into fights and was at most very childlike in nature. 'The Personality' as their mom always said.

Because of this, this made his twin brother not exactly... mature as the years went by. In fact, Stanford can't recall any day that Stan had changed in his days with him. He still cheats off of him, always flirting with girls, going through another round of boxing, and the thing that he loved doing the most, spending time with his twin.

Stanley loved hanging out with Ford, and initially he didn't really mind. He was his twin brother so of course he had to at least take some time away to hang out and have fun. But... as the years pass by, Stan has become more clingy, always wanting to be part of whatever Ford was doing even if it seemed 'too nerdy' for him to understand, and at some point it seemed well... _suffocating._

To top that off, Stan always kept onto that dream they had since they were kids. Wanting to 'sail around the world and have an adventure of a lifetime', to which Ford himself agreed, but... that's because he was a kid. He didn't know any better.

Whose to say that they've outgrown that entire fantasy? Looking back at it now, Ford thought that dream was sort of... juvenile.

But not to Stanley. It was all he ever wanted to do in his life, and he wanted Ford to come along too.

Ford sighed, he didn't want to break his twin's heart saying that he didn't want to go treasure hunting (in the back of his mind, he probably still held onto that idea of sailing), not with the opportunity of going to one of the best colleges ever hanging over him. Even then, it seemed to him that Stan was okay with him going across the country. The smile on his little brother's face after all the conversations they had was all he needed to know.

That was the best parts about his brother. His smile. It was pure, it was wholesome, it was... a signal telling him that he was fine. The older twin gave a soft smile at that memory. No matter how hard he sees him every step of the way, he was still the same ol' Stan only... in an adult's body.

And... that's kind of why Ford's life was somewhat ruined, and Stan took the punishment full force.

He admitted to breaking his science project, and to top it all off he had the audacity to say that the treasure hunting was still available.

_"Okay so... maybe I might've... horsed around a bit. But maybe there's a silver lining to this! Treasure hunting?"_

He couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe his brother had done such a thing to his future. Accident or not, he couldn't go to the college he wanted, all because of his brother not wanting to move on from his dream that seemed impossible now.

_"This was no accident, Stan! You did this!"_

For that, his brother got kicked out. Courtesy of their never impressed father. From there, Stanley begged Ford to talk some sense into him, tell him he's crazy; crazy for kicking out a seventeen year who hasn't graduated from high school.

To which he responds by... clinging onto his college pamphlet, looking away, closing the curtains on him, not even daring to defend him.

Stanley crossed the line this time, and because of that Ford never forgave him.

_"I don't need you! I don't need anyone!"_

...

And that was the last time he's ever saw him.

 _I wonder how he's doing now..._ He thought to himself, six fingered hands clinging onto his hair. He had a massive headache now, thinking back to all these memories, a pathway of where he is now, and then thinking about his twin made him think of all the possiblities...

 _Is he living a good life? Had he finally matured? Did he make millions?_ Stanford never knew for sure. It's been like... what? Four years? Five years? He's lost count now. Point is, he hasn't seen his twin in well... forever, and he's thinking about him everyday.

Sometimes... those thoughts about Stanley led to worry. He thought of the possiblility that he wasn't okay, that he could be somewhere that Ford wouldn't even imagine he'd be in. But, he shook his head at that thought. Stanley can manage on his own. After all, he said he didn't need anyone.

But... there was still part of mind that said otherwise, and it continued to wrack his brain ever since they seperated.

Ford adjusted his glasses, looked down at his desk to see many scattered papers across it.

 _Fallen asleep while studying again._ He scolded himself. Ford looked at his work. All of it seemed to be done, in fact he worked ahead of time like he'd usually do. Everything seemed to go according to plan. Nothing could be better.

_Riiiiiing!_

And then... there was that phone.

That phone has been ringing a lot ever since he was in his college dorm. He would always pick up the phone, but ninety-five percent of the time it was just dead silence. It made Ford annoyed. He would like to know whose making all these dead air calls so he can personally lash out on them, but being the kind of person he is, he has to be sincere to whoever wanted to call him.

_Riiiiiing!_

It happened again. Ford averted his eyes to the sound of the phone in the hallway. He sighed, still hanging onto the chance that it might just be another dead air call. He's starting to wonder if this phone is broken or someone just really wanted to pull a prank on him.

Then again... he never actually sent his phone number to anyone else besides his parents... So who would actually know his phone number?

_Riiiiiing!_

"Fiddleford, could you please grab that phone?" He called out. He recieved no response in return though. _He's probably asleep... It's pretty dark out._ From here, it was just the sounds of silence filling the room, along with the constant ringing. Ford looked up at the clock.

"1:30 A.M.? Really?" He muttered to himself, eyes narrowing. Who would want to call him this late at night? His parents? Ford sighed. Probably not, but what are the odds? The older twin groaned as he got up from his desk and went into the hallway of his dorm. From there he eyed at that phone, still ringing as usual.

_Riiiiiing!_

Stanford picked up the phone. This was it. Whatever's on the recieving end better be saying something important before he decides to break it and get a new one.

"Hello?" He started, eyes narrowing in annoyance. "This is Stanford Pines...?"

To his surprise, someone responded... only it wasn't exactly his parents but rather a stranger... with a feminine voice.

"Stanford Pines?" She responded, sounding a little shocked in her voice. "Do you ever go by the name 'Ford'?"

"Y-Yes I do?" The college student answered, raising a brow.

"Thank goodness..." The lady muttered to herself, but Stanford still heard it nonetheless. _Thank goodness? What's that supposed to mean?_ He thought. "There is hope for him after all..."

Stanford's brows furrowed. What was she even talking about? Does she realize that she's still on the phone? "Uh... if you don't mind me asking.... Who are you, and how do you know my name?"

"Oh... I'm sorry. I'm getting ahead of myself here." She said, nervously chuckling. "My name is Sharon Cartwright. I am a nurse at Westwood Mental Hospital in Connecticut. It's nice to meet you."

 _A mental hospital nurse called me?_ Stanford thought, processing this information. What is a Mental Hospital calling him for? Is it because of his lack of sleep? Is someone worried for him? _Am I going crazy? Is this a dream?_ "It's um... likewise."

"And to answer your other question, your name was written on this phone number" She said, to which Ford reacts in a rather... peculiar manner.

"Really? That's funny, I don't remember giving anyone aside from my parents my phone number..."

The lady laughed, feeling Ford's level of awkwardness flood on the other end. "Well, I have it right here and it looks like I'm speaking to the person in question." She continued. "Now... Judging by your last name, you must be a relative of one of my patients."

To that, Stanford blinked. "Relative? You mean one of my family members is with you?"

"That is is..." She responded curtly. "Does the name 'Stanley Pines' ring any bells?"

Ford's heart stopped. _Stanley?!_ His posture straightened up. "Th-that's my brother."

"Brother?" She asked, stunned. "Funny, he never told me he had a brother..."

His breath hitched and his eyes narrowed at this information. _What? He told them that? Wh-Why would he do that?_ Most importantly, what was his brother whom he hasn't seen for years doing in a mental hospital?

"Mr. Pines... are you still there?"

"Er... Yes! I am." He responded, snapping out of his inner thoughts. "It's just that..." Ford's eyes looked to the side, wondering if it's a good idea to ask this question. He did it anyway though. "Is... Stanley alright?"

The nurse took a deep breath in response. Ford closed his eyes. It's an obvious sign that he's going to be hit with some hard news.

"Actually..." Sharon started. "Would it be better if you come and see for yourself?"

"Huh?" Stanford asked, raising a brow. "Why?"

Sharon sighed. "Trust me, Mr. Pines... You'd be doing us a big favor if you come over. We'll explain everything from there."

Stanford mentally sighed. It was probably because Stanley might have pissed them off at some point and wanted him to get picked up. What are the odds of that happening? _First, I get a call about him and now they want me to come over. Christ, Stanley can you keep your problems away from me for once?!_

He shook his head, Stanley can deal with his own problems. Why in any shape or form should he be a part of it? "Miss, I'm sorry to say but I have other things to do-"

"Please..." Sharon interrupted. It was at that moment the twin's sudden anger receded. If Ford didn't know any better, it almost sounds like she was pleading. "You have to understand... You're our last beacon of hope. Surely you don't want to see your brother hurt himself do you?"

Ford's heart stopped. "He... what?"

Sharon huffed. "Believe me, Mr. Pines. And that's not even the full extent of it..." The nurse clenched her hair with her free hand. _This is his last chance. He has to come in now._ "So... will you come over and see him? If you ask me, he needs a familiar face in the state he's in..."

Stanford looked down, processing the idea of his brother hurting himself. He felt his heart twist. _How could he- Why would he....?_

".....I'll be there."

Sharon gave a sigh of relief. "You've made the right decision, Mr. Pines... Let me give you the address."

* * *

Fiddleford heard the sounds of a phone being put back onto the hook along with footsteps coming from the halls. His eyes fluttered open, putting his head up. _What in tarnation...?_

He sat up from the bed, putting his glasses on. It seems that his college roommate Stanford was awake. It was probably morning by now. But something seemed off... It was still pretty dark. How odd. _Maybe it was early morning... like 6 A.M. at most given that it is Winter and all..._ That said, the college student looked up at the clock.

 _1:50 in the morning?!_ He thought, extremely dumbfounded. _What is my roommate doing up this early?_ At this, Fiddleford got off from the bed and proceeded to go into the hallway.

When he arrived in the living room of the dorm, he saw his college roommate, pacing back and forth, hand in his hair. He seemed worried. What's bugging him at this hour?

"Stanford?" He called out, slightly concerned for his friend's well being.

"Fiddleford!" He responded, shocked to see him awake. "I uh... I thought you were asleep."

"I was..." Fiddleford replied, crossing his arms. "Until I hear ya pacing all over the place this late a night. Seriously, Ford? I thought ya promised yerself you'd lay off on that coffee."

Stanford groaned. "Yeah, I know! But... this is different, Fiddleford!" He said, putting his hands up. "It's... something I didn't expect to happen."

Fiddleford's eyes narrowed. "What is it this time? Did your instructors screw ya over again?"

"It's... not that actually." Ford replied, looking away. He clenched his fists. "It's... about my brother."

At this, Fiddleford straightened up. "Yer brother? You mean-"

"Yeah..." He interrupted. "It's my twin brother Stanley..." Ford rubbed the back of his neck. "I got a call from the mental hospital he was in."

"A mental hospital?!" Fiddleford asked, shock in his voice. "What is yer brother doin' there?!"

Ford blinked, averting his eyes towards the phone. "I'm don't know, but what they told me was... not a good thing to hear."

Fiddleford hated asking this. "What happened?"

Ford looked away. "They told me that-" His throat clenched up. Should he say it? Should he tell his friend that his brother tried to hurt himself? Stanford sighed. He should spare his college roommate from the blunt information. "He wasn't doing very well, and they need me to come over to the place to see him."

"And... are ya?"

Ford nodded. At this, Fiddleford stepped forward. "Then I'm comin' with you."

"Huh?" He asked, eyes widening a bit. "Why-"

"Stanford. I've known you fer what? Four years?" Fiddleford asked, waving his hand. "We are findin' out that yer twin brother is in a loony bin possibly goin' through some trauma. That being said, I'm not leaving ya alone with that kind of scenario. I'm comin' with you."

Ford blinked, putting his hands on his hips. "You... really won't mind? I mean, we've still got college to deal with."

"I've already worked ahead just like ya always do." Fiddleford replied, holding up his car keys. "Besides... it gives me a chance ta meet yer brother."

"I guess there's that in mind." Ford muttered. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be." Fiddleford answered, opening the door. "C'mon, where's this mental hospital at?"

Ford followed, holding the address in his hands. "I'll... tell you in the car."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They'll be on their way soon enough. With this newfound information, how can Ford ever say no? With Fiddleford coming along, things will get interesting.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I gotta get back to animating and writing the next one. I have a Tumblr too, so feel free to follow me. It's the same name only all in lowercase.
> 
> Take care, and be safe!


	3. Depressing Details

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ms. Cartwright gives the two college students a background about the patient in question. Can they handle the details well?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been doing this all day now. I should be animating my Protective Ford animation for a certain Tumblr user. But alas, it looks like she'll have to wait.
> 
> Let's continue on with the chapter. And it's probably the shittiest chapter I've ever written so far...

"Connecticut huh?"

Ford nodded, "That's what they told me." He said, looking at the address in his hands. Fiddleford understood as he continued driving to the said location. At face value, that meant that it wasn't very far in terms of state distance. Though, that still didn't negate the fact that it was at most a five hour long drive.

_Five hours of leaving Stanley alone..._

Meanwhile, Ford averted his eyes towards the window, thinking about the information given to him back on that phone.

It was initially overwhelming, seeing as a person he never met in any capacity knows his name (or rather... it was just written above his phone number). The sigh of relief in that lady's voice when she found out that it was the right person, enough for Ford to raise a brow.

Then it all started to spiral downward when she mentioned that his twin brother was in that hospital.

On the surface, it was terrifying to Ford. To think that his little brother would end up there years after seperation. It left him thinking... What lead him there in the first place? Did he piss off a few people during his travels?

_"Surely you don't want your brother to hurt himself?"_

Enough to.... do something so....

 _Stanley..._ Ford couldn't believe it either. The thought of Stanley doing something like that. It made his heart twist, in fact he was more terrified than ever. He never imagined his little brother harming himself, and... not being there to see it.

Ford blinked at that last part. _Not being there to see it._ It made his heart twist, a feeling that made him nauseous. _You have spent your entire life with a roof over your head and a successful career, while Stanley spent the rest of his days on the streets... You always thought he was fine, but you never even considered what life would be like if you were in his shoes. Being kicked for one mistake, and someone you've known for your life would just-_

"Stanford? You okay? Yer looking a little pale."

Stanford snapped out of his guilt-ridden thoughts and was met with a concerned Fiddleford in the driver's seat. He tensed. "I-I'm fine."

Fiddleford huffed. "Lies... no person would look like that and say they're fine. Surely somethin's up. If it has somethin' ta do with yer brother, then it must be important."

Ford looked to the side. "It's just... I haven't seen my brother in so long. Not after the falling out we had years ago." Fiddleford remembered. His roommate told him all about his twin. How back then he was the joy, the mischievous one, the 'Personality'. He mentioned about how his smile left him all soft inside, saying that it was 'what made Stanley so special' seeing as it cheered him up. It didn't take long to tell his roommate how his life was ruined because of him, resulting in them not seeing each other for years.

"Now, as we fast forward to the present and..." Ford continued, voice cracking in sadness as he looked away. "I finally get news about Stanley's whearabouts only to find out that he...!"

Fiddleford may not have seen it (given that he had to keep his eyes on the road), but he knows that Stanford had tears forming right about now. His eyes narrowed, feeling the sympathy wash over him. "I'm... really sorry that this is all happening to you, Ford" He said, in an attempt to reassure him.

Ford sighed. He laughs a hollow laugh while wiping his tears away. "Try saying that to Stanley..." He said, continuing to swim in his guilt-ridden thoughts.

Fiddleford turned the steering wheel left and arrived at the parking lot. He searched around the area to find the closest spot near the building. Once he did, he went over to that said parking spot and set the car to park. "We're here..."

Ford undid his seatbelt and walked out of the car. He was met with a building; a building that his twin was in.

"Westwood Mental Hospital." He muttered, looking to the side. He still couldn't shake the fact that his brother was in one of these things. Fiddleford walked out of the car behind him and proceeded to put a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry." He said to him. "It's goin' ta be alright! You said it yerself. That nurse really did need you, otherwise she wouldn't have called."

Ford blinked, feeling pensive about this. "Well, can't argue there."

With that, they walked closer to the entrance of the building, getting one step closer to Ford's long awaited twin brother.

Upon entering the building, the two can see that there were many patients sitting around in the area. The majority of them were silent, often doing their own thing possibly with others nearby. Very few have an aggressive aura based on their looks. This made the two tense. Best not to mess with them.

Ford looked up at the clock. _6 A.M._ he thought, _Perhaps they're getting ready for the day._

Fiddleford averted his eyes over to the counter. There lied a lady. Brown hair, blue eyes. He looked at himself and then back at the nurse. She looked at most young, though probably a lot older than he was.

"Excuse me, miss?" He started, walking over to the counter. The nurse looked up, seeing a new face across the counter.

"Hello there." She greeted, giving a smile. "How may I help you? Are you perhaps visiting someone here?"

Fiddleford chuckled. "Actually, yes!" He answered, pulling out a slip of paper. He adjusted his glasses "You don't suppose there's a nurse named 'Sharon Cartwright' do ya?"

To this, she laughed, somewhat to Fiddleford's confusion. "You're looking at her right now, Mister." She said, giving a jesture. "How may I be of service? To whom are you visiting?"

"Well... does the name 'Stanley Pines' mean anything?"

The nurse's eyes widened in alarm, dropping that smile completely. From there, she stood up, eyes bore with desperation.

"You... You must be Ford, right?" She asked, voice cracking in shock. "The one I called here?"

Fiddleford shook his head. "Actually, I'm his friend, Fiddleford Hadron Mcgucket!" He greeted, sending back that gesture. "Pleasure to meet ya."

"Likewise, Mr. Mcgucket." She said, looking around. "Now... back to the person in question. Is he around here?"

"Stanford Pines?" He asked. "Yeah, he's right over there." Fiddleford pointed to the person wearing glasses and a beige trenchcoat. Sharon's eyes narrowed at how similar he looked to her patient. If she didn't know any better, it looked like she's seen double.

"Hey, Stanford!" Fiddleford called out. "Over here!"

Stanford looked to the side to see his friend with a nurse. He walked over to the two of them. _Could this be Ms. Cartwright? The nurse on the phone hours ago?_

The scientist held out his hand. "Hello there." He greeted. "I take it you must be Sharon Cartwright?"

She nodded. "I'm glad you can make it, Mr. Pines. It's nice to see you in person" She shook Ford's hand, though something felt different about it. She looked down seeing something distinct about this man.

"Huh... six fingers? Never seen that before."

Stanford turned slightly red, hiding them behind his back. He coughed. "Ahm... sorry- I'm..."

"No no..." She responded. "It's fine. You don't have to be ashamed of it."

"Really?" Ford asked. The nurse nodded.

"If you ask me, that's pretty neat! It's like an extra finger friendlier than normal!"

Ford gave a soft smile, putting his arms down. _She's nice..._

"Ah, that's right!" Sharon continued. "I'm getting a bit distracted here!" She pointed the two guests towards the office door. "Right this way, I would like to have a word with you in private."

The two nodded, walking towards the said office door.

They reached the other side of the counter, with the nurse pulling up two seats. "Have a seat." She ordered before turning around to find something important.

The two took a seat, silence filling their eardrums. Stanford tensed up a bit as he leaned forward a bit, taking in the slightly uncomfortable atmosphere. If he didn't know any better, he might've thought he was a patient ready to tell the people working here about his twisted mind.

"Now then," Sharon started, sitting down in her chair. "I suppose you already know why you're here."

"My twin brother." Stanford responded, eyes averting to the side.

"Twin?" She asked rhetorically, chuckling. "That explains a lot now."

Ford rolled his eyes at that. It's just a running thing in the family. Speaking of family... "How... How is he doing?" He asked.

Sharon sighed, flipping through her patient's files. "Not very good. In fact, he's gotten a lot worse than he initially arrived."

"Arrived?" Fiddleford questioned. "You mean someone brought him here?"

"Funny you should say that." The nurse replied. "In fact, he... brought himself here."

Stanford's eyes widened. "What?!" Fiddleford put his hands over his mouth in shock.

"Yeah, it was a rare sight to see someone that would willingly put themselves into a loony bin without even thinking. We had to oblige, he seemed pretty out of it."

Ford hated asking this. "How... How did he look?"

Sharon's eyes narrowed, recalling Stanley's initial day. "He was very pale when he arrived. Messy hair, baggy eyes, Red jacket. He seemed pretty lost because I don't think there was any light in those eyes of his."

"Oh dear..." Fiddleford commented, perplexed at this description. That did not sound anything like how Stanford described him when he was talkin' bout family...

Stanford's eyes narrowed, rubbing the back of his neck, looking away. _That sounded nothing like Stanley. None of what she said fit the description of how he remembered him._ Stanford pondered. "You... you mentioned him hurting himself over the phone. Not only that, he has done more worse things?"

To this, Fiddleford turned to his friend, slack jawed at this sudden information. "Ford, you never told me yer brother was doin' self-harm!"

Stanford sweatdropped. "I... thought it'd be best not to tell you! Seeing as it was my business."

Fiddleford groaned. "Unbelievable."

"Ahem!" She interrupted, causing the two to regain her attention. "To answer your question Mr. Pines... the part about doing worse things in his time here..." The nurse handed Stanford the file, containing all of Stanley's records in explicit detail.

Stanford opened the file, Fiddleford looking past his friend's shoulder to see. Scanning through all the content listed, he was shocked.

"He... He's hurt many patients here?" He asked, eyes widening. Sharon nodded.

"He's strong for his age. Our staff couldn't believe it either." She explained. "Some patients wanted to provoke him because of how he was acting towards others. He was always indifferent, always giving off the same emotionless stare. I guess they just want him to let out a different reaction. Looks like they got their wish."

"And... the patients that were hurt? What was the damage?" The scientist asked, shaking. Sharon huffed, giving a face of painful rememberance.

Fiddleford tensed. _This... doesn't sound good._

"He's hurt a total of 3 patients... Two having cracked skulls, and one having a broken arm and rib."

Ford felt like a bucket of ice washed over him. _Stanley... What have you been....?!_

"We had to restrain him, seeing as it caused an entire riot in the sitting rooms." She continued, clenching her fists. "We sent him back into his room, put him on lockdown."

"What?!" Stanford yelled, straightening up. "Why would you do that?! Couldn't you help him calm down?!"

"We tried to help him get a hold of himself, but he didn't listen. If anything, a staff member would've been injured badly!" Sharon answered, clasping her hands together. "Hours later, he started screaming something about 'failure', hitting things that weren't there. He must've done it several times while he was in there because he ended up hurting himself and not even knowing it!"

Stanford hated imagining this. Stanley going into the brink of insanity? It broke his heart hearing more horrible things about him, and by the look on Sharon's face... it's about to get worse from there.

"Eventually... he calmed down on his own." The nurse continued, hands fiddling. "But his hands... they were covered in blood!"

Stanford covered his mouth, tears threatening to spill. He didn't think he could take much more of this.

"He didn't speak for two whole days... He felt as if whatever he said didn't matter. We tried to coax him out of that idea, but he was so sad and lost. That was when Stan wanted our help, he wanted his sadness to go away..." Sharon went over to the medicine cabinet, picking up a specific pill bottle. "So... we prescribed him with this."

Stanford took the bottle and examined it. He didn't like what was given to Stan.

"Anti-depressants?" Stanford asked, choked. "Y-You drugged him?!"

Sharon looked to the side. "It... was the only way to get him to even speak, and he accepted it full force!" The nurse took the pill bottle back, clutching it in her hands. "The results turned out to be fine. He started saying simple phrases, always obeying our commands. Eventually, he ended up speaking his mind. We learned more about him and why he was like that in the first place."

The two college students sighed in somewhat relief. At least the violence in Ford's twin slowed down. Seems that Stan was at least attempting to get back on his feet. "What did he say?" Stanford asked.

"It was only the simplest things." Sharon answered. "His background definetely fit the criteria of the state he was in. He told me about how he's lost everything he cared about; his mind shattering every day..."

Ford felt guilty at that statement. He looked away. Sharon's eyes narrowed. Something about that face didn't seem right, but she shrugged it off. "From there, the staff and I have been keeping track of his status, due to giving him proper medication. Your brother seemed to be getting better from our perspective. He was responsive, he was okay. It seemed like he was ready to see the light!"

After that statement, Sharon's face fell. This made Ford tense. It seems that it was some sort of famous last words to her.

"But... it was far from the case, because deep down..." The nurse clutched that pill bottle, looking away. "It seems that the staff and I let our guard down. Days after his slow recovery, we've noticed that some of the pill bottles were gone missing. A few nurses searched through Stanley's room..."

Stanford's eyes widened. _No... Stan- He didn't-_

"Th-They found five pill bottles under his bed." Sharon continued, voice conflicted. "I was terrified. To see that Stanley would do this behind our backs! I... I think that was his plan all along! We held onto the fact that he's okay so we could avert our attention to other patients. When we aren't looking, he would attempt to overdose!"

" _Mr. Pines! Why would you do this to yourself!? Overdosing is a huge casualty to your body! You could've died!"_

_"Haha... Dying? I wish that still happened!"_

Sharon shivered at how broken his voice was. She could've sworn it became more monotone and lost than initially.

Meanwhile, the two college students are completely speechless. Well, more Stanford than Fiddleford. Stanford closed his eyes, denying that his little brother would do something that rash.

"Stanford..." Fiddleford said. "You're crying."

Stanford blinked. _I was?_ He thought to himself as he touched his face. He looked at his six-fingered hands, they were coated in his tears.

Fiddleford put a hand on his shoulder, once again trying to give him more reassurance. Stanford appreciated it but... it did nothing to mend his overwhelming feelings as more tears fell.

"So..." Fiddleford started, realizing that his friend was not in any condition to speak. "What happened after?"

Sharon took a deep breath. This was it. This was the part that she knew she had to say. She just hoped that the two guests can take it.

"He... gave me one last request. He begged me to make his feelings disappear, because the medication wasn't working anymore. I had one last option, and it was one I wouldn't imagine I'd be doing, but it was the only way to grant his wish."

Ford looked up, face conflicted with horror. "What... What did you do to him?"

Sharon proceeded to grab the file from Ford's hands. From there, her eyes closed, sadness ridden all over. She flipped the page to a very specific record, and gave it back to the six-fingered man.

Stanford looked through it, eyeing on the specific treatment printed in bold. His breath hitched.

_ECT._

_N-No way... He didn't-_

"There was no other way around it." She continued, feeling regret growing in her heart. "Now, he can't feel anything. It was what he always wanted. If he felt things again he would request another go at it. It was terrifying to see someone willing to do the same horrible treatment over and over again. If any of our staff members protested his wishes, he would attack. We have to give in; he's been doing on a regular basis now."

The file in Ford's hands dropped to the floor. Few seconds later, tears splattered down next to it. Ford couldn't believe this was happening. _Stanley took the procedure multiple- No way! Why would he-_

It was all too much for him. Stanley's suffering made his heart burst. This was a huge reality check for him. Ford shook his head. He went over earlier about how he always thought that Stan would be okay, that he was living a good life. But in reality, his other half was here, spending the rest of his days beating himself down to a point where there was nothing in him anymore.

_Disgusting...._

"And... that's how we got here." Sharon said, breaking the silence. "I'm... very sorry that we did this kind of-"

"Where is he?!"

The nurse tensed at that voice. It was low and dark. She looked up and saw a very upset Stanford, hurt and anger in his eyes. "You heard me! That's why you called me here in the first place right?! Where is he?! I need to see him!!!"

"Stanford!" Fiddleford called out, seeing as he was about to jump in and attack her. He restrained his friend. "Stop! Violence is not gonna-"

"She gave Stanley, my twin brother, the worst kind of treatment _imaginable!!!_ " He interrupted in rage. He turned back to the nurse, anger rising. "You better tell me where he is right now or so help me I would do things to you that I didn't think I was capable of!"

Sharon's eyes widened, seeing her guest's reaction to all of the information. In the end, she nodded. Her shook nature started to come down. "That's why you're his last beacon of hope, Mr. Pines."

Stanford blinked, anger slowly receding. "What?" Fiddleford, seeing that his roommate was slowing down a bit, let go.

Sharon stood up from her chair, walking over to the door. "He needs a familiar face, someone to ground him from the person he is now. I couldn't save him..." She gave Stanford a look of desperation. "But I think you can." The door opened, and Sharon gave him a gesture. "Come with me, Mr. Pines. I'll take you to him."

With that, the two nerds walked over to her. But before they could even step out the door.

"Just... Stanford if that's okay with you."

Fiddleford nodded at this. "Understandable. This is more of a... family matter."

"Don't worry, Fiddleford." Stanford responded. "You'll get a chance to meet him, I promise."

That being said, Fiddleford made his way back to the waiting room, leaving Stanford and Sharon alone.

The two walked down the hallways seeing many mental patients pass by. Ford tensed at how they were acting. Some broken down, and some completely nuts. Somehow the patients here were somewhat worse than the ones near the entrance. _Stanley's been around these people..._

"Here it is." Sharon started, showing Stanford the door his twin was in. "Room 19... Are you ready?"

Stanford nodded, a little nervous. "As I'll ever be. I hope he's okay... now that I'm here."

"That's the plan wasn't it?" Sharon responded, unlocking the door. "But... there's something that you should know before you... talk to him."

Stanford's eyes narrowed a bit.

"I suggest you be careful about what you say... One wrong move, and it's not going to be good for you."

The scientist nodded, undertanding her words. From there, she turned around, giving Ford a glance. "I'll... I'll leave you to it."

With that, the nurse left, leaving Stanford alone with the door. A door that contained his long awaited twin brother. _This is it... Your brother's in a fragile state right now and the nurse says that you're his only hope now. You can't mess this up... Let's only hope he is at least happy to see you._

His six-fingered hands clung onto the doorknob, and without a second thought he twisted it and went inside.

Upon entering it, he sees that the room is small, walls that don't seem to be painted; Everything was gray, nothing on the concrete. There was very little furniture, and it was all organized and clean.

The scientist's eyes averted at the one sitting on the bed. The patient inside was looking at the window, staring off into the distance. Stanford's heart skipped a beat. He couldn't believe who he was looking at.

"Stanley?" He called out, worry in his voice.

To that, the patient's head perked up. He turned his head towards him, emotionless eyes boring into him. Stan's eyes widened a bit at the sudden familiar face. He couldn't believe who he was seeing at the moment.

"Ford?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And of course, as soon as we get to the part that everyone's been waiting for... You get a cliffhanger.
> 
> Don't you just love it when that happens?


	4. Dreams are Meaningless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley thoughts reflect back to his memories... Some of them becoming his newfound dreams...
> 
> None of them are good though...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been going through some things, and none of them are good. I'll get better eventually. For now, it's time to take a step back, because I feel like this chapter needs to exist in some shape or form.

Nurses aren't surprised anymore about who was getting the ECT treatment this year.

ECT was like a last resort to them. It was rarely used most of the time. Coming close to at least three patients every year. They give them a proper schedule session so they could keep track on how they're feeling. For the majority of the time, the results were positive.

But, for the patient in question about to use this procedure once more, the results would say otherwise.

"13th time huh?" A nurse started, seeing the unhooked up patient in a relaxed state after the machine proceeded to shock him an unhealthy matter of times. "Don't you think that's concerning?"

Another nurse took note of the patient's response to the treatment. It worked as it should but even then... "Looking at his history, his sessions with the procedure are inconsistent. Normally, we would give him a proper schedule so that his brain would have a less chance of recieving major damage but..."

The nurse flipped through the papers, finally reaching the recordings of his past ECT treatments. None of them were good.

"You know what happens when we refuse his requests." She said looking to the side.

"You think, Patricia?" The other nurse asked rhetorically. "You saw what happened to our dear friend Even! He took that strong elbow to the ribs, and you can hear the snap!"

Patricia nodded in agreement. "I'm surprised that Even can still work, Kelsey. A mentally shattered patient having overwhelming strength." The nurse looked at the window, seeing their ECT patient sitting down, staring off in the distance, expression emotionless as usual. "Stanley Pines... An unfortunate person."

"I'm more surprised that the side effects of this procedure don't seem to phase him. If you ask me, he's got a huge pain tolerance." Kelsey replied.

The two nurses looked at the time. _2:00 A.M._ They sighed. Stanley's recovery time is over. "It's time to get him back into his room." Patricia started, clasping her hands together. She tilted her head a bit. "Will you do the honors, Ms. Anderson?"

Kelsey nodded, walking past her co-worker, opening the door to where their emotionless patient lay idly.

Stanley blinked upon hearing the door creak. He turned his head to see the two nurses, having a look of concern. "Mr. Pines." The one up front started. "It's time to return to your room."

Stanley obeyed, getting off the hospital bed and walking forward to the two ladies. They seemed really tense due to his close proximity (That and his emotionless expression just screams a bad aura). He didn't seem to care though. Everyone can be afraid, angry, or ashamed of him and he wouldn't mind. His days of trying to make a life for himself were over.

Kelsey and Patricia guided Stanley down the dimly lit hallways. There were no patients in sight. It seems that they were all asleep, and Stan was the only patient they had to take care of before it becomes a completely silent building.

_Silence is all I ever hear now...._

The door to Room 19 opened. Stanley turned his head. Two nurses giving him a gesture of 'Come along now, into the room you go'. He gave the two employees a bow, sending them at least a hint of gratitude. But it was completely overshadowed by his cold, lifeless expression.

As Stan walked into her room, he heard one of the nurses sigh.

"You are going to be alright, Mr. Pines..." She said. This made Stan stop in his tracks, eyes averting to the side.

"That's what I said to myself all the time... and look where that lead me..." He said bluntly, no fight in voice; just monotone. He may not have saw it, but he could've sworn one of the nurses had a dejected look.

The door to his room closed with a click. It was now just Stan, his thoughts, and a locked room.

Stanley turned his head towards a mirror. It wasn't cracked like he left it before. Seems that they changed a few things to my room while I was out. He concluded seeing that everything was in it's proper place. He took a good look at his reflection, and it wasn't surprising to say the least.

 _Messy hair, baggy eyes, pale skin?_ He rubbed his cheek, dizziness washing over him. _I'm still the same... Nothing less and nothing more._

He noticed that his hair was growing a bit longer than usual... Stan sighed. If he didn't do something about it, he would end up having a mullet, which in society is the worst kind of hair on men. He didn't care though. It's not like anyone in this building would even judge given the name of this building.

From there, the patient lays down on the bed, dull eyes staring at virtually nothing. They fluttered a bit before finally closing, letting his mind come to rest.

 _Tomorrow's a new day..._ Stan thought to himself as he stared into the darkness in his eyelids.

* * *

_Night is a fickle thing. You hear sounds no one's ever imagined hearing, darkness envelops the sky, and the stars come out, leaving a beautiful pattern. Stanley Pines always loved the night due to this. It was just so... exhilarating to him. Beautiful lights, refreshing atmosphere. It was all he could think about when his dream of sailing around the world with his twin becomes a reality. It would just be the two of them, living life to the fullest. He always cherished his daily nights._

_Only this time... the nightly memories Stan has are now are filled with despair and crushing defeat._

_Oh, how things have changed._

**_"Until you make a fortune, you are not allowed in this household!"_ **

**_"Stanford! Don't leave me hanging! H-High Six?"_ **

_Stanley's heart hurts at the memory. He couldn't believe this was happening. Getting kicked out at age seventeen, Family leaving him to fend for himself in the cold dark world. That's some life... and it might just be what he's going to end up being for quite possibly fourty-plus years..._

_How many years has it been? Stan lost count. It didn't matter to him in the long run. When a new year comes, people had more than what they get initially. But for Stan, it was just going back to square one. Having the same car... duffel bag... photos...._

_"At least I have that..." Stanley said to himself, dullness etching in his voice. He was clutching his arm with his right and carrying a few necessities he had with the little money he had on his left. It was another round of scamming people for their money. Only this time, the money he was getting turned out to be less the more he'd done it. The man sighed, how long was he going to keep this up before he realized that it's not gonna be an option?_

_Stanley shook his head. "I can't give up now." He said to himself. "There's still time! I can come up with better products, one that shines above the rest! I'll prove Pa wrong!"_

_As soon as he finished that sentence, a water drop hits his messy hair._

_Stanley looked up to see the gray sky. It sent down more droplets of water. Before he knew it, he was now drenched in the uncomfortable cold weather._

_His right hand that was clutching his left grabbed what was behind his jacket. An umbrella; one that he successfully stole while he was in the clear from the angry mobs that wanted their money back. It wasn't the best kind of umbrella. It looked cheap for starters, but... it was better than nothing._

_"Should probably head back to my car..." He said, walking down the sidewalk. As if that wasn't what he was planning to do. He doesn't have a place to live in comfort like others do. Having a roof over their heads, living a life of luxury, having that feeling of success to those around you..._

_The StanleyMobile was all he could ever think now in terms of shelter. It's aged. It's crowded, and maybe not the best thing people would think in terms of safety, but it was shelter nonetheless._

_To Stanley, it was home... It had everything he needed. It was a place only he could enter. It had a lot of things that belonged to him, and he slept there too. It was to him, the one thing that didn't make him lose his thread of hope in the harsh life that he lead._

_He couldn't wait to come back there now, at least to do some deep reflecting before falling asleep at the steering wheel awaiting a new day._

_"There's that street." Stanley muttered, turning the corner. "Time to get some shut eye..."_

_But... as soon as he went down that familiar road, one that he knew that's where he left his beloved StanleyMobile, he realized that it... wasn't there._

_This left Stanley in shock. He looked back at the street sign. It was surely the one he saw when he left. He looked at the dead tree. It was the right one, and his car should've been parked right there under it._

_Without thinking, he pulled out his car keys, aiming it outwards to see if he can hear his home, his meaning of transportation in the distance, but to no avail. The panicked human being looked around, not understanding this sudden turn of events._

_He didn't notice it at first, but the plastic bag that he was carrying on his left slipped from his hands, all the food touching the ground, soaking wet. He didn't care though. He desperately wanted to find his car, because he thought for sure he left it here._

_"Wh-What...? Where is my- Who would-"_

_"Are you the owner of that automobile?"_

_Stan blinked in surprise. He turned around to see an old lady, holding a black umbrella. She had this expression, one that Stan can't understand._

_"It is you isn't it?" She asked, bitterness in her voice. Judging by the shocked look on Stan's face, her assumptions were correct. "You do realize that it was parked illegally, right?"_

_Stan didn't say anything, he was more shocked that someone was talking to him. The old lady huffed, looking angry._

_"What a nuisance. Not even going to answer my question." She said, annoyance in her eyes. "I got it towed away, so don't ever come back here again!"_

_And with that, the old lady turned walked past Stanley without regretting her actions, leaving him in the dust._

_Stanley couldn't believe that old lady's words. He kept staring at her walking away, as if she'd did a good deed. This left him with a very hollow feeling. A feeling so strong that he didn't notice that he dropped his cheap umbrella, letting the rain wash over his face._

**_I... I don't.... My belongings....! They were in that- My car! It... It's-_ **

_Stanley's eyes widened. He was shaking. The hollow feeling was growing stronger than ever. It's starting to get too much for him. He couldn't take it anymore. Now that the world has rid him of the things he held dear to him, all he could do was-_

**_You thought you could prove everyone wrong, that you can succeed? Look where that got you... Shows that you'll never have that._ **

_Stanley raised his head up high, letting out a noise that he himself never thought he could make. His cries of anger, sadness, and insanity all echoing across the sky._

_It was a scream of a shattered man, who lost hope in everything, who wanted a cry for help._

_..._

_No one wanted to help him though..._

_Stanley's breathing was ragged, trying to compose himself. It didn't work though as he screamed again into the sky, the sounds of rain not only washing out his broken cries, but his tears as well._

_Rain continues to fall, lightning struck in the distance. With no energy left to let out his bottled away feelings, Stan fell to his knees. His head hung low, his mind fully shattered and his final thread of hope just severed._

_**I'll never make millions... I'll never make up for all I did... I'll... I'll never make Stanford forgive me...** Stanley closed his eyes, letting more tears fall numbness started to take over him. **Pa was right...**_

**_I am a screw up..._ **

_Stanley opened his eyes, blurriness obscuring his lacking vision. His head raised upwards a bit, staring off into the distance, the numbness in him growing stronger than ever._

_With his body shaking, he stood up. Sounds of water dripped out of his already drenched clothes._

_Stanley's eyes averted to the discarded umbrella on the sidewalk. His eyes narrowed before looking away, deciding to leave it there._

**_It's useless now..._ **

_Though in the back of his mind, he knew that it wasn't. It was just like the plastic bag containing all the things he needed to live, discarded just like that umbrella. If he didn't pick that back up now, he could get sick, he could starve._

_**Worthless...** _

_But... could he even care about that kind of thing?_

**_I've.... lost everything...._ **

_There's one he does know..._

_He gave up..._

_And he didn't mind in the slightest._

_Stanley looked up into the sky, gray clouds wallowing every corner of the world. Rain pours onto his newfound emotionless face, washing off or rather, hiding all of his dried tears._

**_This is all a bad dream...._ **

_His head fell, looking straight. He walked forward, leaving that drenched umbrella behind, leaving everything he's ever cared about. Where was he going? He'll never know... in fact he'll probably never care._

**_And I want... to wake up..._ **

* * *

Stanley's eyes fluttered open. He was greeted with harsh sunlight through the window. He groaned, letting his hand run through his hair after that sudden vivid dream.

"That's the first dream I've ever had in a while..." He muttered to himself, getting up. His head ached at the rememberance. "I could've lived without that..."

Stanley didn't understand what he saw in his mind. Why is his broken head recalling all these horrible things? Is it because of his way of life? Was it to reminisce? Is it just the world's way of literally reminding him of his days hurting?

...

He'll never find the answer to that, and he didn't mind in the slightest. Who would want to give him a straight answer?

Stanley shook his head, desperately trying to rid of that harrowing memory. He sighed, his sleeping schedules were all the same.

_Go for another round of that ECT, recover for about thirty minutes, and go to sleep thinking about all the things that solidify the fact that you are a failure while your family is out moving on...._

_Without you..._

Stanley blinked, that last phrase hanging onto his shattered mind. That's all his family ever saw in him. Mostly his dad than anyone else. His eyes narrowed, feeling the thought of his unimpressed face behind his back.

Then... he thought of his twin brother again, staring down on him in disappointment. It made Stan sigh... He still hasn't made up for what he did, but it didn't matter. Stanford didn't need him anymore.

So... why is he still thinking about him?

He huffed, looking away, staring at the cracked gray walls of his room. He didn't have time to wallow about those kinds of things now. It didn't matter him, just like how he left behind his now silly childhood fantasy. His reoccurring dreams could've said otherwise, but he said to himself before...

_Dreams are Meaningless..._

...

He heard some kind of muffled conversation echoing through his locked room after clearing his mind numbing thoughts. Stanley looked at his door. It turned out to be the source of it until he heard the sound of his lock clicking.

Looks like the people who were watching over him are here for the checkup as usual. Stanley didn't mind. It's a daily occurance now. Maybe he can convince the nurses to start off the day with the ECT procedure again. Wouldn't that be something?

Dull eyes looked away from the door. _Let's just get this over with._ He thought to himself, hearing the door open. It was time to start the day. He's waiting to hear that feminine voice to call out his name and come out from his confinement.

But to his surprise, it wasn't a nurse behind him. It was someone more... masculine. Perhaps is was a doctor?

"Stanley?" He called out, concern in his gruff voice. Stan blinked. He doesn't remember that kind of voice. Not from any doctor he knew. Maybe it was a new one? He turned his face towards the opened door. His eyes widened at the person in front of him. The glasses, the hair, the six fingers on each hand. Stanley couldn't believe who he was seeing.

"Ford?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh... I figured I should write something from Stan's POV before we get to the moment everyone is at least hoped they waited for... So here we are.
> 
> Ready for some emotional baggage later?


	5. What else is New?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Stan Twins have a talk in Room 19...
> 
> It... doesn't go well to put it lightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haaa... I'm tired, and college is back! My ineveitable fate all rests within that institute.
> 
> Now that I've caught up, I might as well finish this. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to animating things.

It was so unreal to Stan, seeing a familiar face from so long ago. It's been like what? Four years? Stan mentally sighed. He's lost count.

Ford stepped forward, closing the door behind him. He took a good look at his brother. Messy hair, pale skin...

_Eyes devoid of anything..._

That was the trait that was distinct out of everything else. _Those eyes..._ he thought to himself. _They're dull and broken, like the dead trees of winter._ If Stanford didn't know any better, he would've thought he met a total stranger.

 _Say something!_ His mind thought. _You're just sitting there doing nothing! Is it really awkward to talk to a familiar face that you haven't seen after all this time?_

Ford shook his head, driving away those statements; They weren't doing him any favors. "Stanley..." He started, rubbing the back of his neck. "It... really is you."

"In the flesh." Stan responded rather dryly, making Ford flinch at the voice. His eyes narrowed. "And I see that you're doing alright for yourself." Stan took a good look at him. Better glasses, better hair, studious clothing. It all matches a description of a sheltered and successful person; One that can make millions, one that can make others proud!

Something that Stan could never have...

The two twins sat there, wallowing in the uncomfortable silence. Ford only looked away, trying to find a way to break the ice but to no avail.

Eventually, Stanley broke the silence, with a question hanging over his head. "What are you doing here? I thought you never wanted to see me again."

At this, Ford bristled a bit, seeing his twin instantly jump to conclusions. "Th-that's not-"

"Don't lie to me, Sixer." Stan interrupted, looking away at his marginally successful twin; his better half. "You closing the curtains on me was all I needed to know."

His words fell really deep in Ford's ears. Guilt starts to wash over the eldest twin like a plague. He sighed, lowering his arms in defeat. "To answer your other question, I'm here because a certain nurse decided to call me so late at night about you."

Stanley raised his head a bit. "What? Wh-Who-"

"Sharon Cartwright." The eldest twin answered. "Ring any bells?"

Stan blinked, looking back to all the nurses that watched over him. _Sharon.... Cartwright?_ His eyes narrowed at the name before he perked up in realization. _Oh.... That nurse that refused me to- but then I..._ His thoughts stopped right there, not wanting to think about what happened earlier with their last interaction.

Even remembering the nurse in question, this didn't make sense to Stan. He doesn't remember giving her anything important, much less a phone number. "H-How did she get your number?"

"That doesn't matter." Ford replies, "What matters is that I came to see you."

"Why? So you can rub it in about how much of a _failure_ I am that I've gotten this low in my life?" Stanley asked, bitterness in his voice. "You're hilarious, Stanford! That's gotta be the best joke yet!" He looked away. "I bet she asked you to come here so they wouldn't have to deal with someone like me anymore!"

Stanford's face hardened, starting to get a bit angry at Stan's out of nowhere temper. "You really think the doctors who work at this place don't care about you?! Look at what you're doing to yourself, Stanley!" Stanford pulled out the files, reading off the list of things his shattered brother had done. "I mean, seriously! You've severely injured three mental patients, stole anti-depressants, and abuse to what _I_ think is the worst kind of treatment they could ever put you through!"

Stanley laughed at this, clutching his stomach and bending over. Ford stopped, hearing such a hollow and empty sound coming out of his twin. Never before has that ever happened.

"Worst treatment...?!" He looked at his brother, giving a smile. "That ECT has been the best kind of treatment I've ever had! In fact, I was about to go for it again until you decided to show up at my door completely unannounced!"

Ford took a step back, Stan's words echoing in his ears. "You can't be serious!"

"News flash, Sixer." A pause before glaring at Ford. "I am."

The eldest twin cannot believe how Stanley was just okay with hurting himself. "A-Are you listening to yourself?! What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?!"

Stanley crossed his arms, cold eyes becoming engulfed with rage. "What isn't wrong with me? I scam people for a living, I break everything I touch, The world seems to hate me, and I lost all hope for myself all because of your _dumb science project!_ "

"Hey now, you can't exactly blame my opportunity for a successful future when it was _your_ fault that you broke it in the first place." Stanford replied back without a second thought.

Stanley's eyes widened, conflicted. "I SWEAR, IT WASN'T BROKEN WHEN I LEFT IT!"

"And that perpetual motion machine said otherwise." Stanford continued. He sighed, pinching his nose in frustration. He didn't want to fight Stan right now. Especially in the situation he's in. "Look, Stan. Don't get me wrong, I'm still mad at you."

Stanley laughed darkly, looking away. "What else is new?"

"Sweet Moses, Stan! Would you stop jumping to conclusions?!"

"Why should I? You never listened to what _I_ had to say!" Stanley rebuttled, subtly hinting about how he couldn't explain himself any further on that horrible night. He pointed at the eldest twin. 

"Haven't I already caused enough trouble for you all these years?"

Ford huffed. _So much for progress..._ He crossed his arms. "As if you didn't already." He muttered, but very quickly did his expression change because Stan's eyes looked more dead than before.

"OH, THAT'S JUST GREAT!!!" Stanley lashed out. "NOW I'M THE ONE GIVING YOU A HARD TIME EVEN WHEN I'M _FINALLY_ OUTTA YOUR WAY!" If Stanley didn't hate Ford before, he sure as hell does now. 

"Stan-"

"IN FACT, IF IT WASN'T FOR THAT DUMB PHONE CALL, YOU WOULDN'T HAVE TO DEAL WITH SOMEONE LIKE ME AND MOVED ON WITH YOUR LIFE!"

That much inside Stan's head was true. He wished that he hadn't handed over all of his belongings that he deemed useless to that not important nurse. _Should've disposed them myself._

"You're wrong!" Ford replied, standing up. "I think about you everyday! I always wondered how you were doing; you were probably living life like you'd always wanted to! And what do I get?! Finding out that you let yourself in a mental hospital and started harming yourself for god knows how long!"

Stan looked away, trying to block out all the words his brother said. It couldn't be any more true, but that's what he thought was right.

_What makes you think I don't deserve all this pain?_

Stanford couldn't take this anymore, seeing his twin acting all cynical, not even replying to his previous statement. "I honestly thought you'd be happy to see me after all this time."

"REALLY?!" Stanley snapped, anger rising. He couldn't believe Ford had the absolute audacity to say that 'He was happy to see him' after everything that's ever happened. "YOU THINK I'M HAPPY TO SEE SOMEONE THAT EFFECTIVELY RUINED MY **_LIFE!?!?_** "

Stanley raised his fist and slammed it against the cold walls of his room, creating an ungodly loud noise. Ford's eyes widened, seeing that there was now a huge dent, cracks shaped into a spiderweb.

Stanley held his breath. The two twins watching over each other in silence. Stanford can see the rage emanating from his brother's lifeless eyes. The eldest twin was petrified. He's seen Stan's rage before when he was doing boxing lessons or beating up their childhood bullies... but not like that.

This wasn't the kind of rage that would tell you to back off. It wasn't an 'I'm going to hurt you so bad that you'd be afraid of me if we'd ever cross paths'. No... It was more of a 'You'll be killed on sight,' Ford gulped, attempting to calm down his tense nerves.

_"I suggest you should be careful about what you say... One wrong move, and it's not going to be good for you."_

That it was... If Ford didn't say something to backpedal his previous statement, his little brother could very well fall into a place that he could never come back from; in short, he would lose him.

And he couldn't let that happen.

"Stanley." Ford started, putting his hands up. "Listen to me... I didn't mean to provoke you like that, it's just-"

"I'm sorry...."

Ford stopped, hearing that sudden change of voice. He looked at his twin in concern. Stan came from being pain-stakingly aggressive to washed up and defeated. The younger twin slid down to the floor on his knees, his hand gripping onto the wall.

"I didn't mean to.....!"

Stanford's face was conflicted with sadness, seeing his twin brother in such a state. He heard a sob coming from his mentally unstable sibling. Stan was crying.

Crying... but, there were no tears shedding out of him. It seems that, he was doing it for so long his body couldn't-

"Stanley...."

The eldest twin moved forward, trying to get closer to his vulnerable brother. Stan responds by flinching away, breathing speeding up.

"N-NO!" He cried out in a voice that he didn't think was his own. "G-GET AWAY FROM ME!!!"

Ford didn't listen to his twin's desperate pleas. He knelt down to his level, grabbing his forearms in an attempt to calm him down. Stan tried to push him away, but his draining energy said otherwise.

He didn't give up though. "DON'T _FUCKING_ TOUCH ME!!!"

"Stanley, stop it!!!"

"STAY AWAY!!!"

Ford struggled, trying to coax his brother out of a blind panic. He's terrified. Never before has he seen Stanley act in fear. Heck, he couldn't believe the sound of broken cries echoing the room came from him.

Finally, Stanley stopped. All of adrenaline disappeared into thin air. He was left with more emptiness and depression than before, and he didn't know if he could take it this time.

"Stanley..." He heard his brother say, six-fingered hands grabbing his. "....You're hurt."

Stan perked up looking at one of his hands, specifically the one that he hit towards the cracked wall, which was slightly painted red. Ford was right.

It was bleeding.

"Haha..." He laughed, a smile hiding his pain. "I can't even feel that." White lie. The feeling was still there, but it was more... tolerable than usual.

He can't tell if that's a good thing or a bad thing. His mind could never give him a straight answer anymore.

The mental patient pushed Ford's hands way, standing up with his good hand. Ford followed, trying to steady him should his knees for whatever reason decide to buckle.

"I'm fine." Stan said, not wanting his brother's assistance. He sat back down on the bed, hands curling up on the sheets.

Ford sat beside him, observing his twin's facial features. His eyes reverted back to its hollow state, dull and broken.

"Stan..." He started, eyes looking down on that bleeding hand. "We should call the nurse."

"No thanks." Stan replies, voice hollow than usual. His dull eyes aimed towards the door, seeing that the lock wasn't in place. "It doesn't bother me in the slightest."

Ford flinched at Stan's response. _Doesn't bother you? It's still bleeding!_

At this, he gets up from the bed and walks towards the door. His six fingered hands reached the doorknob, but not before turning his head to glance at his twin.

"Come on, Stanley..." He said, gaining the brother's attention. "Let's go."

"Where exactly?" Stan asks, "And why?"

"Because...." Ford grunted, trying to block out the frustration he's getting from his brother's stubborness. "Because you need to. Come on."

Stan huffed, looking away. "Like that's a good reason for me to-"

"Please, Ley....."

The younger twin blinked, hearing that nickname. He hasn't heard that name in so long, combined with his many years on the street. Stan put a hand near his heart, suddenly feeling something he hasn't felt before.

 _Ley..._ It's strange... the only time he's ever heard that nickname being said is when Ford is-

Stan's eyes narrowed, driving those unwanted emotions and bad memories away from his mind. He stood up from the bed, looking straight past his pleading twin. It doesn't look like he has a choice if he were to say no so...

"....Fine."

Ford sighed in relief, as they both went out of that containment room and into the halls. _We're finally getting somewhere..._ "And if you decide to wander off to god knows where, I swear I will hunt you down wherever you are hiding."

Stan blinked in indifference. His brother's threatening words falling deaf on his ears. But nonetheless, he had to obey. There's no trying to fight back now since he agreed to follow him. "Whatever you say, Stanford..."

"Thank you, Stanley..."

"Yeah? Well, you can take that back then."

"I mean it, Stan."

"Sure you did."

The eldest twin sighed as they both walk down the hallways, most likely to meet up with a certain friend near the entrance.

_I've got a long way to go..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dialogue could've been better handled. I dunno, maybe it turned out fine in the end.
> 
> Thoughts?


	6. Unwanted Violence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford dumps all these promises onto Stan. Is he really up for it?
> 
> Also, don't some of these patients have anything better to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, it's been a long night. Already feeling upset at myself and everyone around me, thus feeling cynical.
> 
> And yet it still gave me motivation to finish this chapter...
> 
> Let's not waste time and get on with it. Oh, and if you want more of what I do on my free time... Feel free to follow me on Tumblr.
> 
> kirbyluigi.tumblr.com

The walk to the waiting rooms was silent. All Ford can hear was the sounds of footsteps, wheels, and blinking lights.

He turned his head slightly to see if Stan was still following him. Sure enough, he was. Still stoic as ever, and his eyes bearing no light.

And then there was his hand. It was still bleeding. Spots of it trickle down his fingertips and onto the floor. Ford looked past his brother seeing that there was a slight blood trail.

"Stan..." He started, concern filling his voice. "I really insist that we should get that hand checked up."

Stan shook his head. "No. It's.... fine." He stated, monotone. His dead eyes looked down on it, feeling the blood flow down his palm.

Strange, the last time he's ever seen blood come from him was when he...

_"Check the room for anything sharp. He can't be trusted around those objects!"_

_"What? So now this place takes away the things that make me feel more right than wrong?!"_

_"Mr. Pines, you have to understand-"_

_"Stop it! Give that back!"_

_"This is for your own good!"_

"And that's why my mirror was more plastic than glass...." He muttered to no one in particular. He continued to follow his brother, turning left at the hallways whenever he did.

Silence was all the two can ever hear, and from there it gave Stanley some time to think.

Looking back at that small memory, it sucks to not have anything sharp to hurt himself. He tried using his fingernails thinking it would have that kind of feeling.

It wasn't the same though...

Stanford never took eyes off of his brother, hearing how cynical he's been acting. His eyes averted to the side, feeling the uncomfortable aura emanating from behind.

 _So quiet... So monotone..._ He thought. _I hate hearing this from him. It's not him. It's hard to believe that the person behind me is actually my...._

"Ford... Where are you going? We're already at the waiting room."

He stopped at that monotone voice, all thoughts completely forgotten. The eldest twin looked around. He was where he needed to be.

All these mental patients are doing whatever it is they're doing while they're being watched by doctors and other security.

"Huh..." Stanford responded, blinking. "That we are..."

Now he just had to find Fiddleford. Strange, he didn't see him now that he was looking around. Perhaps he had to go to the restroom or something?

Whatever the case may be for his friend's absence, it's not a priority at the moment. Getting Stanley out of here is all that matters to him. With that, Stanford walked over to the counter, seeing Sharon writing something down.

"Ms. Cartwright." He started, gaining her attention. She looked at the him in surprise and then looked past him, seeing her mental patient standing idly at the waiting area.

"Wow, that was fast..." Sharon responded at awe. _It seems that calling a relative and bringing him here worked out after all._

Ford shrugged, "It... could've been worse." He started to think about that cracked wall. Courtesy of Stan's fist and added adrenaline. "But that is beside the point." He put his hands down on the counter. "What do I need to do to for Stanley's release?"

At this, Sharon's eyes widened. "Huh... It looks like you were three steps ahead of us. I was going to ask you about that. Haha..."

Stanford chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. "Well... I was always known for being the smart one in the family..."

"It's strange... he said he didn't have a family, let alone a caring brother such as you." Sharon commented casually, not noticing the conflicted look on Stanford's face. "I wonder why though..."

He turned to his silent and lost brother, who seemed to stare off into space tuning out all the loud noise. He felt his heart break seeing him like that, combined with the statement the nurse made.

_Is that really what he thought about when it came to it? Did he really think he didn't have a family anymore....?_

He remembered Sharon saying that on the phone, but hearing it in person... It had a different feeling.

"Mr. Pines? Is something wrong?"

Stanford blinked, turning his attention back to the concerned nurse, holding out the release papers.

"I-it's nothing." He answered, taking the release papers from her hands. Six-fingered hands gripped onto the pen, signing his name in elegant fashion. He handed back the paper to Sharon, to which she smiled.

"I'm glad you actually went out of your way to help him. He's going to need a lot of attention." Sharon's head turns to the side, expression unreadable. "But there's something else you should know before you are free to leave with him..."

Stanford didn't like where this is going. "Go on...?"

"Never keep your eyes off of him. You'll never know what he could do if he was left alone on his own accord."

To this day, she shudders at the memory. The copious amounts of cameras that kept watch on him weren't doing him any favors.

Stanford nodded. "Don't worry..." He turned his head to see his brother, still standing right where he left him. "I won't leave his side...."

"Let's hope Stan can appreciate everything you'll do for him once he leaves here." Sharon smiled. "Thank you for coming to Westwood Mental Hospital, Mr. Pines."

He shook his head. "No, thank you... for taking care of Stanley... even if he is..." a pause, eyes filled with blankness; guilt. "Not what he used to be..."

"Stanford!"

The college student turned his head towards the noise. He saw Fiddleford, waving at him, walking to him.

"Fiddleford." Stanford responded. "Where have you been? You weren't here in the waiting room when I got here."

"Ah, I was out in the restroom. No big deal." Fiddleford answered. Ford rolled his eyes _I knew it... as usual._ While he was slightly drowning in his own smarts, his friend turned his head to see a certain mental patient. Messy hair, White t-shirt... He even has the same face as...

"Hey..." he started. "Isn't this yer brother over there?"

Ford perked up. "Oh that's right. Uh... come with me." He walked over to his apathetic brother, Fiddleford following behind. He gave him a slight tap on his shoulder, to which Stan blinked and turned his well being towards him and his friend.

"What is it?" Stan asked, uncaring.

"Stan..." Ford started, giving a hand gesture to the person next to him. "This is my college roommate, Fiddleford."

"It's a pleasure ta meet ya!" He greeted, letting out a hand. Stan stared at it, and then looked down at his hands, one still bloody but it looks a bit dried out now. He clenched them before looking away at it.

"Ah... I guess yer not one for physical contact eh?" Fiddleford asked, putting his hand down. He tried laughing, trying to soften the blow of his first meeting.

Stan remained silent and stoic, not even giving a reaction to that statement. This made Fiddleford worry. He turned his head to Stanford.

"Yikes..." He commented, shrugging. "I'm... not making a good first impression am I?"

Stanford sighed. "It's not your fault... Stanley is just..." How could he describe this in simpler words; words that aren't meant to be hurtful in any way? "Not himself at the moment..."

"What do you mean? I am myself."

The two college students perked their heads up in alarm hearing that. Ford's eyes narrowed. _Lies..._ Stan said that so casually too, like he said it to himself a million times before it's just natural and numbing. After processing that, it just gave him more guilt than initially brought in, given how his brother's been acting.

"Really? Cuz yer nothin' like I thought you would given yer brother's description. He's told me all about ya!" Fiddleford commented, giving a slight laugh. _Then again... being at a mental hospital doesn't fit the descriptions of how Ford described Stan's "Personality"._

Stanley looked away, not wanting to see his face. "How nice... I bet he told you how much I ruined his life."

"Stanley!"

"What? I'm telling him real facts. Don't act like you haven't told him before." Ford sighed, fists clenching. There was no denying that he did tell Fiddleford about it, but he was just angry. Now, it has a different kind of feeling hearing that now. He can feel his heart ache in guilt.

"That's beside the point." Stan continues, bloody hand twitching a bit. "How long are you two gonna stay here? I got things to do."

"Actually, Stanley." Ford said. "We aren't gonna stay here any longer... In fact, you are coming with us."

Stan blinked, eyebrows furrowing. "E-Excuse me?"

"You heard yer brother, Stan." Fiddleford follows up. "Stanford signed your release papers. You don't need to stay in here anymore."

"I... I don't?"

Ford shook his head. "No, Stanley..." He reached out to his twin, rubbing his cheek in affection.

...Stan swatted that away in alarm.

"Ugh!" He cries out. "Wh-Why are you doing this?"

The two college students looked at him as if he was crazy. "What do you mean?" Asked Fiddleford.

"Why do you want to help me? Even after everything I've said you didn't turn away like I thought you would. I still wish you did. I'm just a worthless nothing in the world... Are you just doing this out of pity?"

The two college students remained silent at that question. This made Stan look away in unsurprising disappointment. _I'm guessing that's a yes... I knew they were going to do this and yet I had no hopes up. No feelings to be had..._

_So... why does it hurt more?_

"Listen to me, Stanley..." Ford started. Stan perked up, suddenly feeling someone's hands grab onto his. It was then he was face to face with his smarter twin, cold eyes locked onto desperate ones.

"I know we haven't parted the best of ways. I know you are still mad at me; I know you have the right to try and push me away, but please believe me when I say that I want to help you." Ford tightened his grip on Stan's hands, still staring at those devoided eyes. "You don't have to go down this road anymore... I don't want you to do anything bad to yourself. I don't want you being locked here forever, thinking that this is what you deserve... No... I wouldn't want that, even if I was still mad at you."

Ford didn't want to think about those horrible things being said on his brother's file. Just imagining it made him want to cry, but he can't do that. He has to stay level headed to convince Stan that he was going to be alright.

"The point is..." He continues. "I want you to be a part of my life again. I want you to be okay... be safe from all the horrible things that happened to you..."

_I want you to smile again..._

Stan remains silent, hearing all of these things that once gave him pain. Ford bristled a bit, thinking that his words didn't mean anything to Stan. _No reaction... Come on! Just give me some sort of sign!_

_Please....!_

"And as long as Fiddleford and I are on your side, you aren't going to be alone or broken again." And to further drive that point home. He tugged Stanley's pale hands close to his heart to make him believe that what he said is true.

The younger twin took a good look at Ford's eyes. They were wide, full of light... full of genuine truths behind them. It seems that his twin wasn't lying to him after all.

Stanley let out a noise, or rather a small huff at this statement; this small gesture. _They really want to be around me? So I wouldn't be alone? Haha... isn't that just... swell...?_ It's strange. If he didn't know any better, he felt his heart beat. In the end he lets out a smile.

Ford saw this as a good thing seeing that wholesome smile again like he saw in his memories, but that quickly died away as soon as he examined what was behind that smile. This was more... like he was hiding, and his eyes didn't have that kind of light. If anything, the smile seemed almost.... fake.

"You really mean that?" Stanley said, smirking. He laughs a hollow laugh. "Well then I guess I oughta be careful or..." He looks away, eyes filled with more cynicism.

"I'll just lose everything again..."

The two nerds stood there, conflicted on Stan's reaction. It seems that with every good thing that comes in his way, the younger twin will always find something that crushes the entire light, leaving it with soul crushing darkness, to which the two are definetely feeling.

 _Sweet Moses, he really thinks the worst possible outcome. Granted, I didn't expect anything less coming from him._ Ford's eyes averted to the side in shame. _What in blazes am I doing wrong?_

The thoughts then went to: _They're all counting on me to fix him... I can't give up now. But then again... What if he can't be fixed? What if he's too far gone? What if...._

_What if... he never smiles again?_

"Hey, you!"

At that gruff voice, the two twins turned their heads simultaneously. What they saw was a tall and buff mental patient scoring a cast on one arm.

"Ah man..." Stan started, instantly recognizing this person. _Trevor was it? Ah... who cares?_ "Don't you and your friends have anything better to do?"

"This is something better to do!" He responded rather angrily, walking forward. This made Ford tense. _Wh-What's going on here?_

Somehow, this slight outburst caused the attention of many of the patients in the room. They all stared at the two mental patients in question, some leaning their heads forward in anticipation waiting for something bad to happen.

"They're at it again, aren't they?"

"You'd think after the shorter one beating him up, he'd learn his lesson."

"This is gonna be good."

Stanley looked at Trevor, dead eyes boring into angry ones. He said nothing else to him, which somehow provoked the patient.

"You're just gonna say that and then go silent on me?!" He said aloud, causing a few audible gasps in the room. The doctors and nurses were bracing themselves, it seems that things were going to get a bit ugly if it goes haywire.

Stanley remained silent, turning his head away from him. _There's no point in trying to fight back. I'd get in trouble anyway even if I were to defend myself._

Just as he was walking away, Trevor walks straight at him. Possibly about to strike him from behind. 

"Stanford, do something!" Fiddleford was going to say, but it seems that he was already thinking on the same page.

Something in Ford clicked seeing the expression on that person's face, and on instinct he walks between the two of them, Stanley perking behind.

"Hey now!" He started, voice getting a bit dark in tone. "Stanley wants nothing to do with you. Leave him alone!"

Trevor smirked, seeing this man's course of action. "Well, what do we have here? You look just like that piece of shit over there, except you look more nerdy and clean."

"I happen to be his brother, thank you very much!" Ford responded. "I'm here to take him home, so get away from him."

"Take him home?" He asked, a bit surprised. "Haha, well whaddya know? It seems that this loony bin decided not to take care of a too far gone patient that is Stanley Pines."

This made Ford a bit angry. How dare they try to insult Stan in front of all these mental patients. He probably had to deal with those violent and cruel actions for god knows how long!

And the worst part about this was, Stan is not even attempting to defend himself in the slightest. Almost as if he gave up. Looking back at it, he seemed... indifferent.

_So unlike him..._

"Well, I guess before you go..." Trevor cracked his good knuckle. "I might as well give you payback after what you've done to me and my skull cracked friends!"

He pushes Ford out of the way and proceeds to punch Stanley in the cheek, sending him crumbling to the floor.

" _Stanley!!!_ "

Stanley didn't respond to the fist full of pain emanating from his cheek. In fact, he couldn't feel it at all. After all the shit he's been going through plus the unwanted violence in situations that should've never happened, his pain tolerance has gone through the roof.

He found that as a positive anyway. He just really didn't want to feel anything.

"No reaction, huh?" Trevor taunted, looming over the apathetic mental patient. "Always thinking you're better than everyone else in this room! You think injuring us is going to change how we think of you?!" He raised one of his legs back, anticipating a kick. "Well let's see how you like one of these!"

Before Trevor could even land a kick at Stan's ribs, he was pushed away by Ford, shielding his brother from view.

"Back off!!!" He cried out, anger filling his eyes. "Leave him alone! He's just as broken in the head like all of you! Why is he any different?!"

"Because he always acts like none of us exist! Not even responding to our _occasional_ chats. He thinks he's above everyone else in the god forsaken hospital!"

"And you think it's okay to do these kinds of actions?!" Fiddleford called out, stepping up to the plate.

Trevor glared at him, causing the college student to back up in fear. _Shit. He thought. Don't want to provoke him that badly....!_

The room at this point was incredibly tense. Surprisingly no one's made a move yet, much to Ford's dismay. _What are you guys doing? Can someone intervene here?_

Or maybe... they were just too afraid. After all, by physical appearance, Trevor could beat up everybody with his psychopathic ways and dark tendencies.

What is there to do in this situation, this dilemma? Nevertheless, Ford had to keep it together in order to keep this dude away from his broken twin.

"I'll say this again." He stated, eyes narrowing. "Get away from my brother."

"You think I'm gonna take answers from a guy with glasses?!" He snarled, "I've got business with that Pines over there, so get out of the way!!!"

The older twin stood his ground, not moving an inch from his position. "I. Won't."

Trevor sees this dude's stubborness at face value. In the end he looked past Ford, seeing Stan's still dead eyed face. He smirked.

"Maybe there is a way to get a reaction out of him after all..."

At this, Ford's eyebrow was raised. Not the kind of comment he was expecting. "Wha-"

Before he knew it, he was grabbed by the collar, face to face with eyes filled with malicious intent.

"Perhaps I didn't make this clear to you. Maybe breaking those glasses of yours will teach you a lesson."

Ford struggled, trying to break free from Trevor's grip. _Man, for having a broken rib and arm, his good one really won't budge!_ He thought to himself, gasping for air.

"Stanford!" Fiddleford called out, too shocked to do anything but stand there.

Trevor moved Ford to the side, seeing his indifferent target once again. "You brought this upon yourself." His eyes narrowed. "Prepare for a massive beating."

Stanford's eyes widened, as he continued to struggle. _No! Not like this!!! This guy's crazy!_ No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't break free.

Stanley stood up and watched this small quarrel in slight shock. This dude is about to pummel his older twin right in front of him, all to just try to get a reaction out of him.

Well, he got his wish; he did feel something in that regard, and he didn't like it.

At some point in the back of Stan's broken mind, he was kind of waiting for this kind of moment; to show his marginally better twin the pain he's been going through and see how he feels.

But on the other hand...

"Hey, dude!" He called out, walking over to Trevor. He yanked the back of the patient's collar full force with his bloody hand, releasing his twin.

"Lay **_off_** , will you?!" He then proceeded to elbow Trevor, causing him to screech in agony before he fell forward onto the floor, possibly clutching at the large bruise now formed on his stomach with his good arm.

Mental patients, including Fiddleford and Stanford themselves, were watching in shock at how this young patient managed to once again, knock down one of the most violent patients in the hospital. Trevor groaned, curling up into a ball.

"Fuck...!" He choked out, coughing. "You broke my rib again, you psycho....!!!"

"Stay away from my brother, you weirdo." Stanley replies, anger in his dull eyes. He turns to his staggering brother and the equally shocked college student. "Stanford, you should do a better job protecting yourself!"

Stanford blinked, processing at what his brother just said. He looked at him in awe. "S-Stanley....."

The younger twin blinked, seeing the look of appreciation and praise coming from Ford. He grunted before looking away, dull eyes giving a more apathetic look.

"Let's just get out of here." He said, voice reverting to its monotone state. With that, he left through the sliding doors, welcoming the cold temperatures of winter.

Fiddleford grunted before turning his head to his friend. "Are you alright, Stanford?"

"I'm fine..." he responded, still at shock at the action that Stan did. The eldest twin looked around to see a bunch of mental patients giving the same reaction he had. Nurses, Doctors, even the security couldn't believe what just happened.

 _The security didn't even do anything to stop Stan..._ He thought. _Maybe it wasn't that violent enough? Jeez, they should've at least attempted to help me out... or better yet helped Stanley when he fell to the floor..._

Or maybe, they didn't want to deal with Stan's overwhelming strength. He remembered how it was back in Room 19. If he was pushed too far, that wall would've collapsed instead of creating that sickening dent. At this, Ford sighed. He can't really blame them if that were the case.

He walked over to the counter once again, putting his hands in his pockets. He pulled out a wallet, unbuttoning it before leaving about fifty dollars on the counter.

"I'm... so sorry about all of this." He commented, looking away. "Please understand."

Sharon nodded silently. It was best not to... engage on the current situation. Fiddleford looked down on that once again injured patient on the floor, now being assisted by a few doctors. His eyes narrowed.

"I... think we're done here. Shall we get going?" Ford nodded. They got what they came for. There's no reason to be here any longer, especially around all of these broken, violent, and insane people.

With that, the two college students left the building, catching up to their indifferent friend and brother. Along the way, they tried to drive out that entire conflict, forgetting that it ever happened.

But... are those kind of moments easy to even forget?

_So much unwanted violence..._


	7. Everything Hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan felt so weak dealing with all this unnecessary abuse.
> 
> It hurts so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha! I finished writing this baby while having a sprained foot! And the title of this chapter is exactly how I'm feeling at the moment!
> 
> But that's beside the point! It's time to continue on with this story!

"Stanley! Wait up!!!"

Stan heard the sounds of his newfound followers behind him. He didn't pay attention to it as he kept moving forward into the parking lot.

"Stanley!!!"

He kept on ignoring them, staring off into the distance, not even responding. That was until he stopped in his tracks and looked up at the sky.

 _Dark... gray... and cold..._ He thought to himself. It slowly made him remind things that were all just the same to him. _It's just like the walk I had last night... just only in the daytime now..._

_In fact... that kind of description fits how I'm feeling now..._

Stan felt something hollow in his heart. It aches every beat. He remembers this feeling very well; it's been following him ever since...

_Hopelessness...._

...He felt his hands being grabbed. He gasped and shut his eyes at the sudden touch. It felt like someone was about to attack him or something in the middle of the parking lot, so he tried to push them away in reflex in an attempt to break free.

He felt something drape over his shoulders. It made Stan whimper a bit before feeling the warmth behind it. It felt weird. He's never been warm outside. Before he knew it, he opened his eyes to see himself in a beige trenchcoat, shielding him from the chill.

"Christ, Stanley..." Ford muttered, giving his brother's hands a tight squeeze. "You could've freezed out here. What in blazes were you thinking?!"

Stan said nothing in response, eyes averting to the side. He tucked the coat closer to him, in an attempt to tell Ford that he didn't want to talk.

Ford sighed, letting out a breath as he pulled something out of his pockets. Stan blinked as he heard the sound of some sort of paper being swished around. Before he knew it, that feeling was being wrapped around his bloody hand.

Stan's eyes narrowed at this sudden action; this... this subtle act of kindness. Never before has anyone ever been so... nice to him.

It's funny. The only person who was ever nice to him in his life was...

"There we go... We don't want to get this infected now, do you?" Ford asked, tightening the bandage. "Especially in this kind of weather."

 _You know, saying things like that makes me want to do those things..._ Stan thought to himself, while Ford tended his injuries. _What I wouldn't give for my bloody hand to be infected..._

"Stanford!" Fiddleford called out, catching up to the Stan Twins. He panted for breath before realizing that his friend gave his trenchcoat to his brother. "Whoa, hang on a moment. It's cold out here..."

"And?" Stanford asked, looking over his brother.

"What about you? It's like 30 degrees out today." Fiddleford tried to reason, shivering as the cold air started to get to him. "Aren't ya cold?"

Stanford shook his head, pulling Stanley closer to him. "It's fine... Stanley's health is more important right now anyway."

At this, Stan blinked in alarm. Hearing Ford say that made him feel... weird. Like something out of the blue just appeared in thin air.

 _My life is more important than his?_ He thought. _Since when did he get that idea? My life was never important to anyone..._

Ford tugged Stan's arm in alarm. He looked up at his nerdy twin, eyes that are filled with light. "Come on, Stan... Let's get you to the car." He said, gently. Before they could even do that, he stopped for a moment. "Wait a second...." He looked around the parking lot, trying to find something very specific.

"Hey uh... You wouldn't happen to know where your El Diablo is, do you?"

Stan flinched, eyes widening at the mention of his car. He looked away, trying to shut out that recent dream earlier.

Ford didn't like what he saw at first glance. His brother trying to hide his out of nowhere pain? He didn't even expect to get that kind of reaction from him.

"Stanley..." He said gently, trying to get his baby brother to look at him. "Please... talk to me..." Stan blinked, tucking the coat closer to himself once more. This made Ford not understand. _He was speaking just fine before... what made him go mute now?_

"This isn't working, Ford..." Fiddleford commented, seeing his friend's futile attempt to get Stan to speak. _Maybe he just doesn't want to talk..._ He started pulling out something in his pockets. It was a pen and a notepad. He gave it to the now silent twin, whom stared into it like it was new to him.

"Hey... If you don't want to speak to us right now, maybe writing it all down will do?"

Stan sighed. _Guess I don't have a choice now do I?_ He started writing down his thoughts, starting with the question Ford had said earlier. He handed over to the two nerds.

_MY CAR... ISN'T AROUND ANYMORE..._

"What?" Ford asked, shocked at this new information. "Then how did you get to the mental hospital then?" Stan took the notepad back and continued to write.

_I DON'T KNOW... I PROBABLY JUST WALKED THERE..._

"What happened to your car then?" Fiddleford asked, to which Stan responded by dropping the notepad and pen to the ground, covering his mouth. He let out a dry sob, no tears being shed.

Ford held Stan by the shoulders, trying to comfort him at this sudden action. "Hey, Hey..." he started. "I-it's okay! You..." he paused, trying to figure out what to say without making it worse. "You don't have to answer it if you don't want to just..."

_God... How is it so hard to talk to him? I'm not really good at this am I?_

"Let's just get you inside Fiddleford's car alright?"

Stan hummed, obeying his brother's orders. Fiddleford pulled out his car keys, opening the locks on the doors.

The trio stepped inside the car. Fiddleford in the front, Stan in the back and Ford... decides to join the back with him.

"No shotgun today, Ford?" Fiddleford asked.

Ford shook his head, buckling Stan in before sitting next to him, doing the same. "No... It doesn't feel right for him to be alone in the back while I sit up front with you. Besides..." He tucked his baby brother closer to him, making Stan whimper in response.

"I just want to be near him..."

Fiddleford nodded, smiling at how Ford was acting. Being an affectionate and caring brother towards Stan. In hindsight, he was going to need all of it in the future.

Stan's eyes narrowed at these soft gestures Ford was doing. First the coat, the bandage, and now he was sitting next to him? It's funny... this really wasn't what he thought of him as before all this.

Then again, what else did his twisted mind think about his family?

Ford looked down on his broken twin. He was so unresponsive, so uncaring, so indifferent.

_So vulnerable..._

"Stanley..." He whispered, pulling him closer as the car started moving out of the lot. "You are going to be okay.... I promise..."

Stan yawned a bit, not even responding to the phrase he's heard many times. It was still numb to him as usual.

_Going to be okay....? Don't make promises you can't keep...._

And before he knew it, he fell asleep.

* * *

_Stanley can't remember how long he's been here in Westwood Mental Hospital. It was a weird place to go to anyway. His legs (or rather, whatever traces of his sanity he had left) lead him there in the first place, and from then it started to go blank._

_There was no reason to look at what day it was anyway given the circumstances. In fact, he didn't mind if he stayed in the building forever._

_After all, he only thought this was right, this is what he deserves._

_**Useless... Nothing... Worthless...** His brain started saying. **The world doesn't accept failures like you....**_

_After blocking those kinds of words for so long, he started to accept them as his own. But, as the days go by it only brought him nothing but hollowness and indifference. Something that he's been wanting to feel ever since._

_Stan blinked, with all of these mind numbing thoughts, he totally forgot he was supposed to be eating or something. He looked down on it, steam flying through the air passing his dull eyes._

_He could've sworn his stomach growled, wanting something to digest or something. But he couldn't afford to care._

_"Hey, newbie!"_

_Stan blinked, turning his head to the source of the noise. More mental patients headed this way... Wait- were they talking to him?_

_"Why is the staff giving you the special treatment, huh? What have they got you in for?" The tall one asked, a tad curious. Stan didn't respond. He was very not in the mood. "Stan Pines wasn't it? You don't look like much..." He looked away, giving these three patients the cold shoulder._

_"Not gonna say anything? Musta been **real** bad, huh?" He commented, feeling a bit sour at the newbie's reaction. Despite that small hint of annoyance, Stan felt indifferent as usual. It's not even a minute in, and he's already wanting these three to go away._

_"Hey, check out his eyes!" The second one called out. "They're dead as hell, Trev!"_

_He proceeded to grab Stan by the cheeks and forced him to face them. To this, the broken patient's eyes widened, dull eyes coming into their view._

_"Oh shit! They are dead as hell, Jackson!" Trev commented, nodding. "It's no wonder he isn't responding!"_

_"He looks like a total freak!" The third one followed up. "Hey, freak! Give us a little whimper!" He proceeded to smack Stan on the forehead, causing the dude to flinch a bit._

_But no sound came out._

_Stan blinked at their intentions, and yet he continued to ignore them, looking down on his barely touched food. This made Trevor real angry, as the reaction he got from him was not what he expected._

_"Boss! He's not whimpering!" Ben saracastically complained. Trevor looked peeved, seeing how indifferent Stan was acting._

_"Don't you turn your head at us!" He barked. "Look over here! Cower in fear!"_

_**God... what is their problem? Can't they see that I have better things to do...?** He questioned himself, continuing to ignore them. It didn't work though, as Trevor came up with a horrible stunt._

_"Oh... look at that!" He started, eyeing on the tray of food that was seemed to be untouched. "You must be hungry, aren't ya? Well, allow me to feed you!"_

_Trevor proceeded to grab the tray and splash it on Stan's face, hearing the sizzle that came along with it._

_Stanley mentally whimpered at the hot touch **Fuck! What the hell?! That hurts...!** but he didn't say anything. Instead he wiped it off with his hands, food falling to the floor._

_"Oi!!!" Jackson reacted, seeing that the new person resisted their actions. "I'm sorry! Did he do it too fast? Perhaps you need a drink!"_

_Before Stan knew it, something freezing cold was drenched over him. He shivered violently, hearing the sounds of water dripping on the floor._

**_W-Why....?_ **

_At this point... He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry...._

_....But he didn't give them the satisfaction in doing so._

_"Hey, freak!" Ben called out, gaining Stan's attention. He was met with a punch to the face, sprawling him onto the floor stained with food._

_"Aw, sick!!!" Jackson called out, laughing. "He's eating it off the floor! What a total loser!" Stan tried to get back up, but to no avail as Ben proceeded to kick him in this ribs, causing Stan to lie there in agony._

_His breathing got shallow. It seems that his body didn't have the strength to get up; not with those kinds of injuries overwhelming him._

_The worst thing about this entire ordeal was... No one in this room was even attempting to help him. The patients just stood there, watching three mental patients abuse another like it's nothing to them._

_"It's just a little welcome party! No big deal!"_

_"Looks like he enjoys eating off the floor!"_

_Trevor proceeded to kick Stan another time, causing Stan to mentally squeak, face scrunched up in pain._

_"Come on! Scream!!! I know you want to, Pines!!! Or are you too high and mighty for that?!"_

_Another strike, this time it was a stomp to the face. Stan pretty sure he had a bloody nose at this point._

_"It's no wonder no one wanted to hang out with him. He's too much of a freak for that!!!"_

_Stan shivered, hearing all these cruel words and actions being put down on him._

_**Freak...** He remembers people calling his brother (to which he no longer had) that; saying all these horrible things to him, and he didn't like it. Now that it's directed at him, it started to have a different feeling. He wasn't angry. He was sad. Sad because... this is just a new kind of low to him._

**_H-How did this happen....?_ **

_He didn't understand anything anymore..._

**_Even when I'm not bothering anyone.... I still get shit....! Why...? Why in the absolute hell does this world hate me?!?!_ **

_Before he knew it, he closed his eyes and mentally screamed into the darkness._

_He did it as loud as his mind could. He could feel his tears silently shedding like a waterfall. It hurts so much. Everything that was thrown at him was blown to bits. He could feel his mind shattering what was left of his sanity._

**_I... I can't take this anymore... This is all my fault..._ **

_That's really what it boils down to. It was his fault wasn't it? It always was in the back of his head. He was the screw up, the punching bag, the spare... the dead wei-_

_His heart thudded at that last part, not wanting to finish the sentence. **No...** He thought to himself. **This time... it's my fault for a different reason...!**_

_It was so clear to him now, seeing those cruel faces staring down on them. Beating him down every step of the way. He knows the reason for why these people were doing these kinds of actions._

_They wanted to see if he reacted to anything. He never gave them that satisfaction, but at the same time... he did._

_He didn't do anything. He had done nothing to defend himself; he took all of their sudden abuse full force... and it gave them the idea to do it more when he refused!_

**_I showed them so much weakness...._ **

_...Well, they're going to get one now._

_Stan remained lying there for a bit, hanging onto those thoughts for awhile. This time... he'll show them, show them something they've never seen before._

**_We'll see what happens when you think beating up someone that did nothing to you is okay.....!_ **

_And with that, his mind fell into another setting, like a transition, a new day. His heart found something that's filled with burning hatred. It wanted Stan to be a part of it. It felt so welcoming now._

_Stan shook his head, trying to drive out all his inner feelings. **Never mind all that...** His dull eyes caught a glimpse at three mental patients; The ones that beat him up, provoked him, and started severing his mind into the brink of insanity._

_And yet, the three of them are just laughing, having a good time like they're hot shit. Underneath all that facade, their smiles are filled with dark tendencies and cruelty._

_The three of them stopped laughing and saw what was left of their supposed victim. Still the same as usual, but only a few scratches and bruises._

_**'No big deal.'** He remembered, eyes narrowing. He slowly stood up, brushing off all the debris._

_"Well, look who decided to step up?" Trevor greeted walking over to him, hands clapping together in sarcasm. "The indifferent human finally decided to wakey wake from his nap!"_

_"Yeah! And hey! Those bruises are still there!" Jackson followed. "We really did a number on him! How does it feel, newbie?"_

_**Nothing...** Stan wanted to say, but refused. He was going to give them the satisfaction of reacting to their cruelness... but not in the way they think._

_With his silence, it only ended up provoking them a bit more, and decided to do another cruel action._

_"Boss, I think he's still broken in the head!" Ben stated. "Whaddya say, we go in for a little more?! Make him feel again!!!"_

_To this, Trevor smiled. "Oh yeah, guys!" He cracked his knuckles, preparing himself. "You ready for another round, Pines?"_

_Stan's eyebrows furrowed. This is it. This was the moment he was waiting for..._

**_I've had enough of this..._ **

_Trevor proceeded to strike Stan with a punch to the face, to which Stan replies by tilting his head to the side, dodging it and grabbing his forearm tightly._

_He yanked that arm as much as he could, eyes narrowing into a dark void. Trevor gasped, eyes widening at this sudden action. "W-What are you doing?!"_

_**I'm going to end this...** He answered to himself as he gripped the patient's forearm tighter, seeing the fearful expression on his face. **Once... and for all.**_

_As he was tightening his hold on Trevor, the sounds of bones cracking can be heard. Before he knew it, Stan striked an elbow at his arm, snapping it in two._

_" **AAAAAUGH!!!** " Trevor cried out, falling to his knees. Stan kept holding onto his broken arm, expression still indifferent as always._

_Trevor's lackeys were backing away in fear, seeing their leader in such pain. They looked at Stan, trembling as he glared at them next._

_"Shit! I'm getting out of here!" Jackson called out, but before he could make an escape, he felt his hair being grabbed and pulled back._

_He was whimpering at the touch, struggling to break free from no avail. Before he knew it, he felt his head being slammed into a wall, a sickening crunch echoing in the waiting rooms._

_All the other patients were watching this happen with wide eyes. Never before have they seen this kind of violence in the mental hospital._

_It was terrifying. No one dared to even step in and stop the fight. Sooner or later, there was going to be a riot, and Stan didn't mind in the slightest._

_Jackson's head slid down the wall, blood painted all over it. He turned his head towards Ben, who was scurrying away but to no avail._

_Seeing as he was cornered. Stan walked over to him while dragging Trevor by the arm. He could hear these two whimpering, fearing for their life. To that, Stan could care less._

**_They should die..._ **

_He proceeded to kick Ben right to the head, knocking him straight into a table, breaking it in half. Blood started to seep down his scalp and appeared to be unresponsive._

**_Good..._ **

_Finally there was the one that gave him the most pain for no reason in particular either than for their own amusement. Trevor looked at Stan in fear, wondering what he was going to do next._

**_You deserve this..._ **

_Stan dropped Trevor's forearm, looming over his bully with eyes of murder. He readied his leg and proceeded to strike him in the stomach, hearing the ribs crack in his feet._

_"S-STOP IT!!!" He cried out, begging for mercy. Stan didn't care though as he continued to kick him in the same spot. He thought for sure there was more blood than bruises at this point._

_Patients were crying out, cheering on this violence like it was a great birthday present. Not too long after, doctors and nurses started rushing in, trying to break up this conflict._

_One doctor proceeded to grab Stan from behind, causing the patient to gasp in alarm. His arms were being pulled away to his back, preventing him from going any further. He turned his head to see his captor, eyes of hatred and malice burned into it._

_"Mr. Pines! That's enough!!!" He called out in an attempt to calm him down. Stan didn't obey as he struggled a bit._

_"Let go of me!!!" He shouted, trying to break free. "He needs to die!!! He needs to **BURN IN HELL!!!** "_

_Stan proceeded to stomp on the doctor's leg with such overwhelming strength, causing him to stagger, to let go of Stan. He then proceeded to elbow the doctor right at the chest, causing him to fall to the floor._

_"Even!!!" One nurse called out, running to the injured co-worker. Other nurses came in to restrain Stan once more before he can land another strike at the severely injured patient._

_"Take him back to his room! Put him on lockdown!"_

_Stan seethed as the staff literally dragged him back into the hallways, away from his target. " **YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME!!! LET GO!!! LET GO OF ME RIGHT NOW!!!** "_

_"This is for your own good, Stan." He heard the sounds of a door being opened, and he was going through. His dull eyes still eyeing on that damage he's done to those patients as the door proceeded to slowly close in front of him._

_" **I'LL DESTROY YOU!!! I'LL DESTROY YOU ALL!!!!** "_

_And before he knew it, he couldn't see those three mental patients on the floor as the door closed on him, now entering the hallways._

_It was at this point, Stan ran out of energy to struggle. All he can hear is the sound of his body being dragged onto the floor. After a few turns in the hallway, he heard the sound of keys being pulled out, unlocking something._

_**Room 19...** He whimpered at the harsh tug on his arms. It was then, the nurse had quite literally thrown Stan back into his room, body sliding across the floor._

_Stan, now finally free from his captives, proceeded to stand up and try to flee, to which the nurses already closed and locked the door, preventing that._

_"LET ME OUT OF HERE!!!" He cried out, banging on the door. "LET ME **OUT!!!!** "_

_He heard a soft voice behind the door. "I'm sorry, Mr. Pines. There's no other way around this one..."_

_Stan continued to bang on the door until he didn't have enough energy to keep going. From there he slid down to the floor, knees touching the cold hard floors. It was then that he couldn't contain his emotions anymore when the waterworks came out, tears beginning to drip from his chin._

_How much more can he take? Just when he was defending himself from their cruel actions, the world decides that it's a wrong thing to do. It not only left Stan in utter despair but also confused..._

_What in god's name was he supposed to do now....?_

_**I'm sorry.....!** His mind thought as he curled himself up into a ball. **I.... I didn't mean to.....!**_

_And before he knew it, his vision turned black._

* * *

Stanley's eyes snapped open in some sort of cold sweat, now not seeing his old room in the mental hospital that he was so used to. He heard the sounds of a car's wheels moving, white noise filling the rest.

 _W-When did I...?_ He looked ahead of himself to see an open road through the window. He also saw the driver... who looked very familiar.

His mind was still hazy but he could remember that his name was... _Fi... Fiddleford.... Ha-Hadron...?_

It was then everything clicked, like the memories he pushed away so much now flooded his brain like a waterfall.

 _Th-that's right..._ He thought to himself, shivering. _I was being visited... getting picked up. They signed papers... Taking me to....._

He felt someone tug his whole body closer. He perked his head up to see Ford, holding him tight in his arms.

"Are you okay?" He asked, concerned at how his twin woke up. It was so sudden, but the look on his face made his brotherly instincts click.

Stan looked down as he pulled out the notepad again, writing a sentence that Ford didn't seem to believe.

_IT WAS JUST A DUMB NIGHTMARE, THAT'S ALL..._

Ford mentally shook his head at that. Judging by Stan's way of living with himself and the practices that Ford oh so well hated, he was pretty sure that the nightmares were more than just _dumb._

Nevertheless, he didn't press any further, for his sake and what little sanity his broken little brother had left. He could talk to him about this when he's ready. But for now.....

"It's alright, Stanley..." Ford said softly, gently ruffling his hair. His vision blurred, sleep taking over him, but not before saying one last thing. "I'm right here. No one will hurt you again..."

And he meant that with all of his heart.

Stan's face softened at the kindness Ford was giving him. It made his heart beat at this form of affection. His eyes didn't change though; Still blank and emotionless as ever. 

He looked down, trying to process that previous statement. He sighed, trying to wish that what his now caring brother said was true.

_Why is it so hard to accept those kinds of things....? Have I grown numb to it....?_

It made his insides hurl; his heart twisting, as if the hollowness had been striked by something. Stan's breathing got shallow, trying to block out this strong sensation in his mind. He was starting to have a headache now.

 _Ow.... Ow.....!_ He took a deep breath, his bandaged hand tightening around the notepad. He eyed on it, his vision becoming more....

He wrote down something down under the statement earlier. Something to relieve stress, like writing it out would calm his headache but to no avail. Afterwards, he started to drift off once again, and the notepad he was holding now slipped out of his hands.

_EVERYTHING HURTS.... STANFORD....!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, it was pretty hard to write flashbacks and fleshing them out. Maybe I'll edit these in the future.
> 
> Poor Stan tho.... :(


	8. Speaking Nonsense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People think a lot. Sometimes, maybe a little too much. It's confusing. It's weird.
> 
> But is that really something Stanley can't handle?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back! Sorry this took so long. It took me awhile to figure out what I was trying to even write in the first place.
> 
> Isn't that something?
> 
> Thanks for the kudos, guys. Seriously! I didn't think this fic was good at all.
> 
> Let's continue.

It took five hours to get to the mental hospital in the first place, but this time it took less than that. Given that there were no pit stops to be had (Except for the one moment where they had to get gas). All they wanted---or at least what Stanford wanted---was to get Stanley home. Away from all the horrible things the world has done to him.

It was the one thing he can do as a start. In the meantime, he had to know how to get his baby brother back on his feet, so he could see his 'Personality' shine through.

_I want to see him smile..._

Stanford yawned, driving away all those thoughts for now. He looked down on his brother, whom was still in his arms, trench coat still tucked around him.

 _First time I've ever slept with Stanley in years..._ He thought, hearing the somewhat steady heartbeat coming from his brother; His breathing was more slow and heavy. _He must be so tired..._

Stanford moved a strand of Stan's hair to the side, seeing it out of place. He also took a good look at those baggy eyes. They looked worse than initially. It looked like a really bad use of mascara, only after someone has been crying a whole lot.

This made Ford sigh, realizing what that could mean. _How many times has Stan slept so restlessly? Have.... Have there been moments where he hasn't slept at all?_

He took a good look at that bandage wrapped around Stan's hand. He saw the pen still wedged between his fingers. From there, he looked down below to see the discarded notepad.

Ford picked it up, seeing Stan's writing at full glance. It was all in blocky letters, like his hand was in all caps. It was just like how he remembered when he was younger.

_IT WAS JUST A DUMB NIGHTMARE. THAT'S ALL..._

Ford's eyes narrowed. He knew that it was anything but dumb intitially. With the way Stan was acting towards everyone including him and his colleague, there had to be some kind of trauma behind it.

And trauma there was because below the written response from earlier, Ford saw something that tugged his heartstrings.

_EVERYTHING HURTS.... STANFORD....!_

"Oh, Stanley...." Ford commented, resting his head on his brother's messy hair, clutching that notepad in his hands.

"Are you alright?" Someone asked suddenly. Ford blinked and looked up, seeing his friend's face in the front mirror.

"I'm fine." He replies dully, continuing to listen to his brother's unsteady breathing. "Just... worried for him is all..."

He put the notepad back into his brother's pockets. From there, it gave him some time to recollect, process a lot of information about him.

He looked back onto that file. Hurting others, Anti-depressants, Self-Harm. He gets the gist of it. But the entire ECT thing still never left his head.

The fact that Stan actually enjoys shocking himself to an oblivion was enough to make Ford nauseous. His brother even did it so inconsistently that he grew a huge pain tolerance.

Which is probably why he wasn't defending himself against that mental patient, and that just made Ford angrier than ever.

How dare the world strike down Stanley like he was garbage. Now, he can't even smile; the one aspect Ford really liked the most about his brother, taken away from him.

Stan suffered so much, and he accepted the unwanted judgement like it was nothing. It made him truly believe that he wasn't worth anything to anyone, and Ford didn't like it.

Well, all of that was about to change. After everything that has happened and the way Stan looks physically, Ford will make sure his baby brother doesn't go through that much suffering again.

"Hey." Fiddleford announced, knocking Ford out of his thoughts for a moment. He turned the wheel left. "We're here..."

Ford heard the sounds of a car going into park. He looked out the window to see a very familiar building. "Huh... Well what do you know?" He said, looking to the side.

He was so focused on his brother that he totally forgot that he was back at Backupsmore University. Ford couldn't wait to get back inside his for the most part bug-free dorm. But in order to do so...

Ford didn't want to do this, seeing as Stanley needed all the rest he can get. But at the same time it didn't feel right for him to stay in here either.

"Stanley..." He said softly, shaking him. "Please, wake up. We're here..."

Stan's face scrunched up at the gesture, and before he knew it, he stirred in his sleep. His cold eyes seeing reality once more.

He took a look around. Still in the car. He thought to himself before turning his head to see his twin. Stan blinked seeing his soft eyes and smile aimed towards him. "There you are... Welcome back..."

"You doin' alright, friend? Didja sleep good?" Fiddleford asked, following up. The somewhat mute twin looked up at the driver and all he could do was shrug at that question, feeling indifferent.

Ford sighed. He still doesn't want to speak. He opened the car doors, stepping outside. "Come on..." He commanded him, holding out his hand.

Stan's eyes narrowed on that six-fingered hand. Sometimes, he's slowly reminded to how nurses do that kind of gesture to coax him out of the room.

At that logic, he had to obey. There wasn't anything else he would rather do. With that, he silently took his brother's hand, tucking the trench coat closer with his other.

Ford pulled him out of the car, bare feet touching the rough concrete. His dull eyes looked at what was ahead of him. It was some sort of apartment complex.

He pulled out the notepad from his pocket and began writing once more. He held it up to his concerned twin.

_WHAT IS THIS PLACE?_

"You're in Backupsmore University, Stan." He answered. "My college."

Stan blinked, putting his notepad down. _Oh... that's right. That means it must've been at least a few years.... Three to Four at most..._

_That's how many years that I....._

His brain started to make him dizzy, thinking about the years he was alone. It caused him to stagger. Before he knew it, he started hacking something out, the contents of it reaching the cold hard road.

"Stanley!!!" Ford called out seeing this uncalled for response. He caught his brother before he could fall to his knees, trying to keep him standing. "What's wrong?!"

Stan shook his head, wiping the saliva off with his good arm. _Fuck... That was not a good thing to feel._

In fact, thinking about his thoughts just made it worse. His brain started pulsing again, but he refused to vomit this time. He didn't want to ruin this out of nowhere kindness from the two people because of his problems.

Ford sighed, seeing as Stan once again refuses to tell him what's going on. _You'll have to tell us eventually..._ He took his brother's bandaged arm and slinged it over his shoulders. "Stan, lean on me."

Stan obeyed, leaning on his twin without a second thought. Together they walked forward to the building with Fiddleford trailing behind.

The trio walked up the stairs, eventually reaching the third floor of the building. Ahead of them was the door, engraved with a number Stan didn't really care about.

Fiddleford put his hands in his pockets to pull out the room keys. Stan heard the sounds of shiny things being clashed together before hearing a clicking sound. The door opens, and his twin helps him get inside.

At least when you're inside the building, you don't have to feel the wind rushing towards you like a plague. But then again, Stan sometimes welcomes that kind of thing. In any case... it was better than nothing.

"Here it is." Fiddleford started. "Welcome to our dorm, Stan." He looked around the area to see a few scattered papers and stacked books in the living space. "E-Excuse the mess um.... A lot of things happened..."

Stan shook his head, writing something down. _IT'S FINE... DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT._

He let himself go from Ford's grasp and step forward into the room. He took a look around. It was a small space for starters, but there are multiple rooms, possibly the bathrooms, bedrooms, etc.

Stan proceeded to sit down on the futon ahead of him. He took off the trench coat that was draped around his shoulders and put it to the side. Afterwards, he leaned back, trying to at least find some comfort in all of this.

_Don't get too comfortable, Stanley..._

"How are you feeling?" Ford asked, fiddling his hands. In the back of his mind, he mentally slapped himself. _Why ask that question when you know damn well that you know the answer to?!_

To his surprise, Stan wrote something down; From reading the blocky handwriting, it was kind of not the answer he was expecting.

_I'M FINE... THIS CERTAINLY BEATS THAT SECLUDED HOSPITAL ROOM... OR MY CAR..._

The last part made the two college students worry. Fiddleford couldn't believe it. "Y-You lived outta yer car?"

Stan blinked, realizing what he just written down. _What the fuck dude?! What in blazes made you think writing that down was a good idea?!_ He looked to the side, clenching his fists. He nodded slowly, ashamed of himself.

Ford couldn't believe what he was seeing. As if Stan's life wasn't already butchered to begin with. "You mean to tell me that these past four years you didn't have a home?!"

Stan gasped, eyes widening at the sudden outburst. He clutched his chest on reflex. He could feel his heart pounding, his breathing going faster than usual.

_"I got it towed away, so don't ever come back here again!"_

**_My belongings.... they're.....!_ **

He didn't realize it before, but he was coughing, trying to get something out of his well being like some sort of monster trying to crawl out. The sound coming out of him was probably the worst thing about it, and it terrified the two nerds in the room.

"Whoa, whoa!!!" Ford backpedaled, hands raised in alarm. "It- It's okay! It's okay! I'm sorry!" He felt terrible for going off like that. He knew that Stan was in no shape to handle any sort of outbursts, especially directed at him.

It took a few minutes, but Stan finally calmed down. His heart started beating slowly, feeling the hollowness once again. He looked to the side and put his whole body against the arm of the chair, feeling nothing.

He flipped the page of the notepad over. _CAN WE... NOT TALK ABOUT MY CAR?_

"Bad memories?" Fiddleford asked, walking to the kitchen, looking through the cabinets for something. Stan nodded, eyes averting to anything past the two.

Ford felt terrible. It came to the conclusion that Stan started off with nothing and gained nothing when he decided that it was his end. He's lost everything he's ever cared about. To be reduced to this state, especially after how it all happened...

It hurts...

_EVERYTHING HURTS... STANFORD....!_

Ford ruffles his brother's messy hair in an attempt to give him the reassurance he needed. "I'm... sorry that this happened to you..." He said.

Stan's eyes narrowed as swatted Ford's hand away from his hair. He scribbled something on the notepad. _DON'T BE... I DON'T WANT YOUR PITY._ With that he tossed his way of communication to the side, continuing to wallow in his profound nothingness.

Stanford grimaced. _Fuck... How am I messing this up? Am I just unintentionally saying the wrong things?_ He reached out to Stan once more. "Stanley-"

Before he could finish his sentence, a glare was seen from his direction, causing Stanford to freeze.

He took a good look at Stan's expression. It was that same glare that he gave him earlier, when he was talking to him in Room 19. It was aggressive, it was dead, it was murderous.

It was filled with hate.

 _Shit!_ Ford mentally cursed as he pulled his hand away from his brother's eyes. He tried to speak to compensate for affectionate behavior, but in the end it all came out as just gibberish.

Stan saw the look on his twin's face. They were full of fear, just like how he saw it when he punched that wall back in his cold hospital room. It seems that Ford thought he was going to kill him on sight if he didn't move, and that made Stan feel more... subdued at that.

Does that make him any different than what the others back there called him?

_**Freak...** _

All of the anger Stan felt at that point started to recede. He looked away, feeling a bit of despair at the sudden thought of scaring someone that did nothing to him in his current state.

At least... not at the moment.

Ford's clasps his hands together, feeling helpless against Stan's conflict. He hated this, he really did. Seeing what his brother has become was bad enough; The twin he grew up with, the one that protected him? But how does one protect someone from themselves?

In fact, Ford wasn't so sure if he could protect Stanley at all...

 _Christ, you can't think like that now!_ His mind called out. _Not this early! They're counting on you! We've talked about this before!_

_You. Have to. Protect. Stanley._

_You promised yourself and for that nurse's sake!_

...But how can he keep that promise when Stanley refuses to speak?

Is he really considering being a mute forever?

Fiddleford closed the cabinets, holding something in his hands. "Hey, Stan?" He calls out, causing Stan to turn his attention to him.

"Do you think... this will make you speak to us again?"

He holds up the bottle of pills in his hands. This made Stan's eyes go wide, locking his dull eyes on the bottle. _Is... Is that...?_

Ford took a good look at his brother's response, shocked to see such a reaction coming from him. Upon further inspection he realized that his wide eyes aren't filled with fear but rather... a yearn.

And turning his head towards the bottle in his friend's hands, he can see where this is going...

And he didn't like it.

"No."

This made the two turn their heads towards the scientist in alarm, seeing his slightly angry expression. "No, you are not giving my brother that!" He says, holding his brother close instinctively.

Stanley yelped at the tight hold, almost attempting to break free with his overwhelming strength due to it being so sudden. _Shit! What the hell, Ford?_

Nonetheless, his dull eyes still stared at that pill bottle. His hands wanting to reach it like some kid wanting something up high. At this point, he didn't care what Ford thinks.

He wants those pills.

"But, Stanley isn't speaking to us." Fiddleford replies. "Remember what Ms. Cartwright did to get him to speak again?"

"I know what she and all of those nurses did." Ford answers. He pulled Stan closer to him. "And I'm not letting him anywhere near it."

Stan mentally rolled his eyes. He should've known better that Ford can connect two and two together. After all, he did read his medical file.

"Don't get me wrong, Fiddleford." Ford continues before the other nerd could say anything. "I want him to speak just as much you do." He looked back to his mute brother, whom was observing his every move. "But... I want him to do that on his own terms."

To this, Stan's eyes averted away from the pills and his brother. He couldn't believe they would do this to him. There was the point in his mind where he could just break free from Ford's grip by using his overwhelming strength and just snatch the bottle right from Fiddleford's hands. But... then it would upset Ford, wouldn't it?

Even then, he didn't feel like fighting back right now. So, he decided to just keep it going. In hindsight, it was probably for the best. After all...

_You don't want to cause anymore trouble now, do you?_

Fiddleford, seeing the look on his guest's face, and Stanford's admittingly logical reasoning, decides to oblige. "Okay... We're not gonna use them." He tucked the pill bottle in his pocket. "For your sake... And Stanley's health."

Stanford sighed in relief. "Thank you." He tightened his hold on Stanley, continuing to give him all the affection he needed. Stan gave a low hum at this action, ignoring the warmth his brother was giving him.

After a while, Stan pushed his brother's tender love and care away, laying down on the futon once more feeling numb.

Fiddleford fidgeted his hands, suddenly feeling the awkward silence in the room now. "Do... you need anything, Stan?" He asked trying to break the ice. "You're our guest after all..."

Stan blinked. Someone was asking him for something? First the offering of pills, now this? It just left him more confused than ever before. Nonetheless, he continued to write.

Well, Stan's pleading for those pills were out of the question now. If he asked for anything else that seemed harmful to them, the conversation would be the same.

So... he's got nothing.

_NO... I DON'T NEED ANYTHING. I DON'T WANT TO BE A BURDEN._

Stanford shook his head at his brother's silly response. "You're not a burden, Stanley. You just aren't well..."

 _Aren't well?_ Stan mentally rolled his eyes at that statement. Ford could've just said that he was not the person he used to be, and it'd all be the same... if not, hurt more.

_I wish you would hurt me..._

The broken twin continued to write something down; It was at most an extremely bold request, and it might cause a bit of conflict, but he really wants this right now.

_CAN YOU TWO JUST LEAVE ME ALONE?_

Stanford stiffened, seeing that question in blocky handwriting. His mind started to focus on that one word. _Alone._

If there was one thing that didn't go together right now, it's Stanley and being isolated in the condition he's in.

_"Never keep your eyes off of him. You'll never know what he could do if he was left alone on his own accord."_

That would be the last thing he would do to his little brother. Ford shook his head. "No." Stan's eyes widened in confusion. "No, I am not leaving you alone. Not in the condition you're in."

Stan's eyebrows furrowed. What is Ford going on about now? He just wanted to be alone so he could-

He stopped himself, looking at his bandaged hand, thinking about the things he did on the medical file. _Oh..._ Things started to make sense now.

Damn Ford for being the genius of the family. If he was less smart, he would've gotten away with a few things when he was left alone.

He's not surprised that Ford thought that he was going to do something rash. Well, he can't do that now. With that, he wrote some reassuring words, trying to be convincing at least.

_IT'LL BE ALRIGHT, SIXER... I'M NOT GONNA DO ANYTHING STUPID, I PROMISE._

In the back of Stan's mind, it said otherwise. _For now..._

Besides, he didn't have the motivation to do anything of the sort.

Ford's eyes narrowed, his hand clinging onto the arm of the futon. "You promise?" He asked, tone a bit dark. Stan looked at him like he was being stupid. Didn't he just read what was on the notepad?

"I want to hear it from you, Stan." He continues, looking straight at Stan's dull eyes. "I need the words, if not the motion!" Fiddleford watches his friend basically interrogate their guest. Not the kind of thing they should be going for but....

"I'll say this again. Do you promise not to do anything stupid when I'm not around?" Stan blinked, seeing Ford's eyes. They were filled with desperation, certainty, and pleading. At this point, if he said 'no' then it would just end up upsetting him.

It left Stan with no choice at this rate, so he nodded, with Ford letting out a sigh. Stan guesses that he believes him.

"Okay, Stan... I trust you." Ford says, clenching his fists. "But if you break your promise, I will never leave you out of my sight. You hear me?"

Stan got the gist of it. Don't break this rule and you can be alone as long as you want. He gave his twin a shrug, to which Ford looked away in anger.

Fiddleford fidgeted his hands, seeing promises being made left to right. Stanford walked up to him and put a hand on his shoulder, gaining his attention.

Stanford pulled his friend towards him. "Hide all the medicine and any sharp objects that he can set his eyes on." He muttered. "If he's going to be alone, I'd rather not have those lying around."

Fiddleford nodded, looking at his pocket containing those pills earlier. He'll get to it later, since Stanley is awake. He had to make sure he wasn't around to see himself take all the medicine just because...

With that, the two college students retreated to their rooms, leaving Stanley alone in the living space filled with scattered papers.

It was finally just himself. He sighed, eyes going deeper into a dark void of nothingness. It's about time too. Stan was starting to somewhat hate their presence.

He never thought he wanted to truly be alone, not after the years being on the street with nothing but a car (to which he no longer has) mind you.

Stan thought back on to what Ford said. All these promises that he kept, his pleading eyes staring into his soul. He didn't get it. If anything, Ford seemed like he was going to give up everything just so he could watch him get better.

 _He's being real adamant on taking care of you..._ His mind thought. _What do you think of that?_

Now that is the question. How did that make Stan feel? He sighed. Well, if he was being honest... He didn't feel a thing; like it always did.

After all, he has been taken care of for weeks in that mental hospital. This kind of change doesn't make things any different than they are now.

Maybe if there was a outlet somewhere, he can continue shocking himself into an oblivion like that ECT. Now truly this place would be the same as that loony bin.

Stan's blinked, thinking deeply into Ford's promises. He thought of those words as swell but not encouraging, but... maybe that wasn't the case.

 _My heart was beating at his kindness towards me. He was always the one to ever make me feel that kind of thing._ Stan stared up at the ceiling. _But... he hated me, even if he said that he didn't. Why is it so hard to believe that?_

In the back of his mind, it was laughing like he was being stupid as usual. _You've accepted the fact that you were worthless and don't deserve love, remember? Or have you been getting second thoughts?_

That's what the broken twin thought before. But after what Ford was doing to him now, he isn't so sure anymore.

In fact, he was acting all cynical to his brother's pleas, saying that they were all futile and that he would lose everything again...

Like he always did...

At that logic, it made Stan realize something. Could it be that he was the one being silly to think that way? After everything that's happened to him?

 _Well..._ He thought. _He is trying to help me. He wouldn't be here if he wasn't._ He looked to the side, thinking about his brother's roommate. _He even invited a friend..._

Stan looked at his bandaged hand, and the affectionate gestures that Ford gave him in that car. The dude even refused to give him pills.

That should at the very least be enough to show Stan that Ford really meant what he said.

 _Maybe... I am the one being ridiculous._ Stan concluded, rolling over. _Do these two really want me around?_

To that, his mind started to slap himself. It gave Stanley a huge headache in the process. He hates it when this happens. Why does it keep doing that?

 _You're speaking nonsense, Stanley._ His mind spoke out. _Of course they don't want you around! You even said it yourself when they told you otherwise._

That he did, but on the other hand.

 _Don't think that way._ His thoughts continued. _They aren't worth anything. Sooner or later you're going to get used to it, and you'll mess everything up faster! Do you really want that?_

Stan's headache started to get worse. His mind was thinking about all the worst possible outcomes as usual. But in the end, he trusted what his dumb brain said because he thought it was right.

Otherwise, if he went with his gut instinct, then things would go wrong.

Like it always have been...

Stan started to feel drowsy. He needed some time away from his thoughts now. They were starting to get too complex for his liking. 

He curled up tighter into a ball, letting the chill of this room take over him. In the back of his mind, he could have used Ford's trenchcoat to some kind of warmth around here...

But he didn't care enough to try...

At some point, he heard the sounds of cabinets being opened and closed earlier, but Stan didn't really give in to that attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's worse than thinking. Overthinking.
> 
> I've had plenty of headaches myself doing that, lol.


	9. Drifting Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford doesn't want Stan to be alone, he gives some time to help him recover before he gets to class.
> 
> Stan on the other hand is left to obey Ford's commands. Is that really so hard?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! It's me again! Ah... I'm just having a bad day, but it's nothing I can't handle.
> 
> Anyways, this chapter is long. Probably the most I've written down. Heck, I had to tear a chunk of it off because it would be fitting if some information was left in the next chapter.
> 
> Well as always, let's continue down the road to recovery, eh?

_Tick... Tick... Tick..._

The sounds of a clock echoed across the living room. Bits of the sun shining past the closed blinds. From the looks of it, it turned out to be a beautiful morning... if not a bit chilly.

Sometimes, those descriptions don't apply to someone having a nice day. They can treat it like any other ordinary day. 

Stan's eyes fluttered before finally deciding to wake up, seeing reality once more.

_Today is a new day..._

He shifted around a bit, feeling something wrapped around his entire body. Stan hummed in confusion. Odd. He didn't remember curling into that trenchcoat earlier.

Upon looking at the thing around him, he realized it wasn't actually the trenchcoat Ford gave him, but rather... an entire blanket. Lots of them in fact.

 _What the hell?_ He commented, sitting up from the futon. His fingers felt the softness of the fabric. It was probably fresh out of the dryer or something. That and it was really warm to the touch.

Stan felt the rays of sunlight etch his vision. He squinted, raising a hand over his forehead to block it. His lifeless eyes turned to the clock near the door, the second hand ticking every step of the way.

 _8:30 A.M?_ Stanley thought, blinking. _I must've slept like a baby..._ He recalled back to his dreams. Surprisingly, he couldn't remember what he was dreaming.

 _Probably another dreamless sleep... Great... I can't even remember my lucid dreams like last time..._ Stan stretched his entire body, hearing the sounds of muscles popping. He yawned too, feeling the emptiness in his heart start to grow.

His hands involuntarily scratched one side of his hip, and without a second thought he swiveled around the futon, feet touching the carpet.

Stan smelled something good reach his nostrils. It was very strange. The scent of it led to what was right in front of him. On the coffee table there was...

 _An omelet?_ Stan questioned himself, tilting his head. He took a good look at it. It was so... organized. The plating of it was spot on. Except maybe the piece of paper that was right next to it; Probably a note.

It certainly beat what he was given at that mental hospital. Well... Hospitals aren't exactly known for their cuisine, but who is anyone to judge? So to see something like this is quite surreal. It made Stan want to rub his eyes at the sight of it. In the back of his mind, there was a part of him that thought this was all a dream.

Stan blinked, pushing away that ridiculous thought. He moved the covers away from him and stood up from the futon, walking over to the plate of food.

He went down on his knees, grabbing the note first and opening it. _Who would do this?_ He asked himself. He had a guess that it was probably Ford, but looking back at the last time he ever cooked... things didn't go very well.

Perhaps things have changed? Or did it take him many tries? Stan will probably never know. His dull eyes looked down on that note, reading the clean handwriting.

**_Hey there, Stanley. It's me, Fiddleford. I uh... I think you already know that._ **

Stan rolled his eyes. Of course he knew. Maybe Fiddleford thought he'd just forgotten his name?

Looking back at it, it could be the case. He didn't even mention his name once to him in his first interaction, or any other time of the day. He hummed. He didn't even write his name down on the notepad.

**_You were asleep for quite some time. A real heavy sleeper, y'know? I have never seen someone sleep for 10+ hours before... Now if only that could be said the same for Ford, whom barely gets any sleep because of his studies._ **

Stanley hummed. _Is that right? Well, that's another difference between the two of us now..._ He turned his gaze into the rays of sunlight. _Not that there's anything we have in common..._

**_You seemed pretty cold too. Like ice to be exact! Ford was worried. He's starting to think you don't feel anything hot or cold at this point due to what you've been through. So, he kinda found a lot of clean blankets and wrapped them around you. Y'know, you really should take better care of yerself..._ **

Stan looked to the side in doubt. What he wouldn't give to make himself believe that he was taking care of himself. But then again, shocking oneself to oblivion and walking outside with nothing but a t-shirt and long pants in needy cold weather doesn't fit that description now does it?

**_You also seemed pretty skinny. Ford mentioned that you used to be more buff than usual because of boxing lessons, but looking at you now we can see that you've lost a lot of weight. Do you not eat often?_ **

Stan sighed. It wasn't like he didn't want to eat, it was more like he didn't have the apetite, the feeling. Now that Fiddleford has mentioned it and Stan's painful indifference to everything, his explanation for not wanting to eat didn't really bring anything good.

**_Well in any case, I made you this. I made it with lots of love and admittingly hope to make a better impression for you, since our first meetup you were daresay... moody?_ **

Stan blinked. _Fiddleford was the one who made this?_ Who would've thought? But the question that was lingering over his head was... why do all of this? He wanted more answers than what he was given.

_**Haha... I think I've wrote enough. I got class to go and deal with right now. I'll be back in a few hours. If ya want we can have a chat, just the two of us? Get to know each other? Well, let me know okay? I'll be happy to oblige if you ask.** _

And with that, the note ended, with the nerd's initials written on the side of it.

Stan's eyes narrowed at his new friend's gesture. He averted his gaze away from the note, staring at the food on the table.

The steam flies around the room, still hot and ready. Though, by staring at it, it started to remind him of something. If he was looking at a mirror at this point, he would've saw himself feeling blank at the sight of it.

Then it hit him. He was reminded of that entire cafeteria scene back in Westwood. That time when three people were...

_"You're looking a little hungry there... Perhaps Trev here would like to feed ya!"_

_"Aw, sick! He ate it off the floor!"_

_"Did we go too fast?! Here, have a drink!"_

_Fuck...!_ Stan thought, clutching his head. Fingers clinging onto his messy hair. _Why do you keep remembering that?_

It was a bad memory, and he'd like to forget those kind of horrible things; move on from it. But his mind would say otherwise. It always laughed at those kind of violent and painful memories.

There has to be a way to block it out. Stanley can't exactly learn from any of it aside from knowing that he did something awful in his life, something unforgivable. If only someone could distract him from...

"I see that you're awake, Stanley..."

Stan blinked at that voice. It sounded familiar. He looked to his left, eyes widening in alarm. Ahead of him was sort of the last person he wanted to see at the moment.

It was Ford, still wearing the same clothes from yesterday, only the tie wasn't even made and he lacked the trenchcoat. Speaking of the trenchcoat, it was still on that futon. Maybe he decided to come get it?

Stan scribbled something down. _HELLO, STANFORD._ It read, blocky handwriting and all. With that he turned his gaze away, his eyes locked onto the still not-touched omelet.

Ford watched his little brother, still seeing how lifeless his eyes are. It came to the conclusion that the greeting was rather.... forced. It made him sigh. _Still as stoic as ever I see._ Ford looked at the low table to see that there was food. This made him give out a low hum. 

_It seems that Fiddleford was trying to warm up to him, trying to help my little brother feel welcome._ Ford thought. But looking closer at the scene in front of him, it seemed that Stanley was more into staring at it than actually eating it. That alone made the scientist feel more perplexed.

 _It still looks fairly fresh._ He continued, rubbing the back of his head. _Was I interrupting him?_

The eldest twin walked over to his broken brother and knelt down, wanting to be near him; wanting to shower him with love; the type of thing that Stan needed.

"How are you, 'Ley?" He asked, raising a hand to rub his brother's frighteningly pale cheek. Stan blinked at that warm nickname. He swore he felt his heart beat a bit at that. He hated it though. In response, Stan swatted his brother's kindness away, only this time... it was a lot more gentler.

 _You know damn well he's trying._ His broken mind said. _You might as well play along. Make sure he keeps believing you._

Stan continued writing his thoughts down. _I'M FINE..._ in the back of his mind, he was lying, and he knew Ford would be able to see through it.

Ford sighed, eyes gazing towards the omelet on the table. He blinked, "Aren't you going to eat that?"

Stanley scribbled around in his notepad, tearing off the paper. _I'M NOT HUNGRY._ It said, combined with a stern look on his face.

This didn't settle well with Ford though. "But you have to." Ford replies back. "You're pretty skinny."

Stan layed his head against his bloody hand, the elbow crutching the table. On his other hand, he continued to write. _AND LET'S KEEP IT THAT WAY._

Ford blinked, shocked at Stan's refusal to eat anything. "Stanley..." he said, reaching out to him. "Fiddleford made this for you. You don't want that to go to waste now do you?"

Stan scoffed, flipping a page of the notepad before writing. _HE SHOULDN'T HAVE WASTED HIS TIME ON ME IF YOU PUT IT LIKE THAT._

At this, the eldest twin mentally slapped himself. "Always going for the worst possible outcome aren't you?" He asked with slight sarcasm.

Stanley rolled his eyes, twirling the pen around. _IT'S EASIER THAN BELIEVING_ _THERE IS HOPE, THAT'S FOR SURE..._

Stanford's eyes narrowed. Even though he hasn't heard his little brother's voice for a while now, he can still hear it from reading what was written down in that notepad. He can just feel the cynicism seeping through that thing like it was a plague.

It's awful to think really.

"Stanley... please don't say that, because it's not true." Ford replies, sadly. Stanley only shrugged in response, resigned. The eldest twin sighed. There's no getting around to him at the moment. He's still stubborn as usual. Ford picked up the omelet plate, since Stanley adamantly refuses to eat. He leaves the dish in the microwave, possibly to save it for later.

"Okay, then. You're not gonna eat this" He continues, "But this conversation isn't over, you hear me?" He turned around to face his silent brother. He knelt down, holding out a hand. "Come on... Let's get going!"

Stanley raised a brow in confusion. _Huh? We're going somewhere?_ He looked at his brother's six fingered hand, signaling a _"let me help you up"_ kind of command. Naturally, Stan would've obeyed this gesture just like he did when he was back in that mental hospital, but this time it felt different. His eyes narrowed, looking up at Ford and wondering. _Why?_

"I gotta be going somewhere. You're in a college campus remember?" Stanford answered, seeing his brother's confused gaze. He shrugged, looking to the side. "And I want you to come along with me."

Stan blinked, looking as if Ford's done just talked nonsense. He rubbed the back of his head, feeling slightly awkward. He ripped out a piece of paper from the notepad. _YOU'D REALLY WANT THAT?_

Ford nodded. "Yes, Stanley..." He said, gently. He looked at the other question below the previous one. _WHY EXACTLY DO YOU WANT ME TO COME?_

To that, the smart twin gave a small laugh. "Can't a sibling have their other sibling be by their side the rest of the way?"

In the back of his mind, the real answer was _Fiddleford isn't here at the moment, and you'll be by yourself for a few hours... And I really do not want you to be alone._ But Ford let that thought slide, because saying that to Stanley wouldn't do him any favors.

Stan huffed, hearing that small but somewhat sweet question. It sounded awful and ironic, but he didn't bring that into attention.

_Makes you feel **pathetic** just thinking about it, huh?_

"Besides... Going on walks might help you. Staying confined into a building must make you feel uneasy" Ford looked outside the window. The rays of light shining upon the two of them. "We could do that sort of thing everyday if you'd like?" He gave Stan a gentle smile. "Sunlight will do you good."

The younger twin's eyes widened a bit, hearing this. It wasn't like it was completely wrong. Going on walks did wonders for him back in the days of Westwood. Though, he only did those kind of things at night and when he felt the need to do it. He mentally sighed. Maybe he needed this sort of thing at the moment, to clear his mind of everything awful.

With that, the silent twin took Ford's hand, helping him stand up. At some point, his knees buckled, but Ford caught him, trying to steady him before it felt safe to let go and give Stan some space.

"You alright?" Ford asked. Stan gave a slight nod before letting go of his brother's hand. His dull eyes were aimed towards the door. Feeling ready to head out and do whatever Ford wanted to do.

Just as he was about to reach the doorknob, Ford put his entire well being between him and the door. "Hang on a moment, Stanley." He said, holding his hands up.

Stan tilted his head in confusion, giving off a _What is it? A change of heart?_ kind of vibe. He was going to go outside with him, because he was told to. So what is even the big deal?

"Are you looking at yourself, buddy?" Ford asked, eyes narrowing. The younger twin looked at himself. White T-Shirt, same long pants, maybe a little pale around the skin, probably still have the baggy eyes... Stan didn't get it. He shrugged at Ford, giving an expression that screamed: _What? I don't see the problem._

Ford sighed. He knew Stan wouldn't realize given the way he is now, but he thought it would be nice for him to be a bit more self-aware, or rather have some hint of self-care within him...

But he has none of that now, does he?

Ford pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "If you haven't realized, it's still pretty cold out." He answers, waving his hand around, "And because you refuse to eat, I honestly doubt that your well being doesn't produce any sort of body heat at the moment."

Stanley's eyes narrowed. _What the hell's that supposed to mean?_ It's not like he really can't feel hot and cold at times. He could do it, that is... if he cared enough.

Ford pulled out something from his trenchcoat. Stan stared at the object in his brother's hands. It was neatly folded and everything. It was red along with a lot of furriness on the hood. Stan blinked. _A jacket?_ He questioned himself. _For me?_

Before he could question Ford further, he  
was already bundled into this thing, too lost in his thoughts to even react. When the job was done, Stan looked at himself. It was a perfect fit all things considered.

It was that or they just have the same body type, given that they are twins and all.

Stan scribbled in his notepad. _IT'S NICE._ It read, followed by his averting gaze. He bundled closer to the soft touch of the jacket. He let out a warm sigh. He can get used to this.

Ford smiled at how much Stan was sort of adoring it. It's not much, but anything giving him some appreciation means just as much. He thought as he grabbed Stan's bandaged hand.

Stan blinked at the sudden physical contact he's recieving, prompting him to swat Ford's hand away again on relfex. His eyes widened in fear, unable to think.

"Shit! I'm sorry, Stanley!" Ford said aloud, realizing about his fragile twin's reaction to any sort of out of nowhere physical contact.

Upon hearing this, Stan's blurry vision became a bit clearer due to the familiar voice echoing in his ears. Before he knew it, his fear disappeared, and was back to its rather... hollow state.

Stan blinked, seeing the apolegetic face written all over Ford's face. He sighed, writing something underneath the previous message. _IT'S ALRIGHT, FORD. DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT._

Ford's gaze averted to the side, feeling this sense of 'not okay' coming from his brother. "This kind of stuff does make me worry, Stanley. You used to love physical contact. You hated being touch-starved."

Stan rolled his eyes, not even bothering to reply to that comment. _That's what you used to be; a dependent good for nothing that always wanted your brother's attention no matter what. He's literally letting you remember how absolutely **suffocating** you are._

With that thought in mind, he opened the door with his good hand, leading the two brother's outside in the cold winter day.

Well, Ford wasn't wrong about the weather conditions. It's still pretty cold as shit, just like his other walks outside the loony bin. The sky is a bit bluer than usual aside from the gray clouds coming from time to time. That's something to change the pace of the usual scenery Stanley was so _painfully_ used to....

The two twins walked down the steps and into the parking lot, where the rays of sunlight shined down upon the brothers.

Stan's eyes widened at the warmth he was receiving; Not from Ford but rather the sun. Despite light shining through anything metallic and smooth, when it came to Stan's eyes, there wasn't any it reflecting off the retinas compared to Ford's. It shows that not even the sun can bring Stan back to life.

But Ford was right about one thing. The sunlight did do him some good, even if the slight gust of wind just breaks the flow of a beautiful day despite the cold weather.

Ford took a hold of Stan's hand, guiding him to a part of the campus he needs to go. "This way, Stanley." He said, walking over to the other side of the parking lot.

They end up at a crosswalk with a stop sign next to it a few minutes later, where they both watch student cars zip by with no clear spot to cross. _Geez, everyone loves to pick the earliest day possible for their schedule._ Ford thought to himself, seeing a red car go across the area.

After what feels like possibly forever, because students just don't think to come in a little earlier (Admittingly, he would've gotten to his class by now, but he was too focused on Stanley to even care about that sort of thing), he heard the sound of footsteps nearby, followed by a sharp huff.

"Hey there, Stanford..."

Ford blinked and turned to the side, seeing a face that he didn't want to see at the moment; especially in this cold weather. He groaned. "You again?" He asked. "What do you want this time, Eric?"

Eric smirked, seeing his target's unamused expression through those glasses. "Nothing in particular." He answered, crossing his arms. "Just the fact that you didn't decide to show up early like you usually do? Have you finally decided that living the normal and easy is better than going beyond?"

"If you're talking about mediocrity than you're implying that everyone has to accept the idea that we're all the same." Ford pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. _Sweet Moses, I feel like history is just repeating itself._ "Geez, do you have anything better to do than to make fun of my lifestyle?"

Eric laughs. "It's just a daily thing. Do you have a problem with that?" Ford groaned, obviously not enjoying this little chat with a college bully.

Stan blinked at this student in front of him. He had blond hair, body type seems to be the result of moderate exercise. His glasses are very similar to Ford's. This made Stan feel weird though. _Why is Ford so tense with this dude?_

"Who is this little runt?" Eric asked, curiously. "He looks all scrawny and washed up. A worse version of you!"

Stanley blinked and looked away, feeling the numbness grow deeper in his heart. The dude wasn't wrong to think of that assumption. He always thought he was pathetic, but he didn't let that hurt show.

"Hey now, don't talk to my twin like that!" Stanford replies, anger in his voice. "Stanley doesn't need that at the moment!" Stanley blinked, seeing his brother stand up to him again.

"Twin? Haha! And it has a similar name too? That's hilarious!" The college student replies. "Thought you cloned yourself or something, created an alternate version of you that actually has normal fingers."

Ford mentally groaned. _This again? Seriously?_ He tried his best not to be embarrassed by them, but he still felt the hurt just as bad as it did years ago.

Meanwhile, Stanley... did nothing to defend himself or Ford for that matter. Normally, he would beat the shit out of bullies that caused the two such shit, but now it looked like he just accepted it full force.

Courtesy of what the mental hospital does to violent actions...

Stanley tugged on Ford's trenchcoat, causing Ford to avert his gaze to him. He saw the notepad that said. _LET'S JUST IGNORE THEM OR SOMETHING... GO SOMEWHERE ELSE..._

Ford tried his best not to think about how unbelievably out of character his brother was being. In fact, his behavior is starting be more like his younger self when he had no self-confidence, minus the blank emotion.

 _He looks so vulnerable under that blankness..._ Ford thought, sadly. _It seems that fighting back just isn't his thing anymore. Not after the medical history yesterday..._ He sighed. _My poor little brother..._

"Aww... His eyes look so dead!" Eric commented again, looking at Stanley. Stan blinked, dull eyes locked onto the mischievous ones. "I bet something terrible happened that got him to not react to anything!"

Ford clenched his fists, angered at this student's hateful words. "Well something did happen to him. He can't speak at the moment, and I'm trying to take care of him from the likes of awful people like you!"

Eric laughed. "Oh really? Are you sure your brother over there isn't already a bad person to begin with? Is that why he's like this? It's probably because he pissed off a lot of people and as a result became street trash!"

Ford's eyes widened, extremely dumbfounded that this dude had the gal to say in front of him that Stanley is an awful person and deserves to die.

_What rotten people..._

Eric grabs Stanley by the cheek, to which Stan squeaked at the sudden jerk. "He's probably lucky he's even alive at this point! Because let's be honest, people like him just deserve to die!" He tugged the twin's cheek forward, causing Stan to force out a whimper; something he didn't like to hear from anyone.

Ford gasped, seeing this dude flat out hurt his brother. He grabs Eric by the forearm, dragging him away from his vulnerable little brother before letting go.

"Get your filthy hands off of him!" Ford calls out, shielding his little brother from this student. "If you decide to come closer, things will get worse for you!"

"Oh?" Eric questioned, smirking. He crossed his arms. "You think someone like you, a nerdy scientist can take down someone like me?"

"Well, I probably could. I have my ways." Stanford replies, eyes narrowing. He could probably beat up this guy if he absolutely wanted to. Those boxing lessons from way back then were still in there somewhere.

Stanley on the other hand found a sense of deja vu with this situation. This was almost exactly like yesterday, instead this 'Eric' dude was a lesser version of Trevor. He mentally sighed. _The world really wants to hurt me, sometimes even Ford. Can't we have a break?_

Too lost in his own thoughts, Stan didn't realize that Eric punched him in the face, causing him to stagger back in alarm.

"Stan!!!"

Stan touched his injury with his good hand. His face scrunched up a bit. It's another bruise waiting to swell in later. He mentally groaned. It's not anything new to him, but it hurt just as much.

"Oh... look at that! I bet that snapped him out of his dead gaze!" Eric says, triumph in his voice. He laughs, "If you ask me, he's more of a total freak than you, six fingers!"

Stan blinked at that. _Freak...?_ He hated that word so much. Ever since he was in that mental hospital, the mental patients always berate him for his dead and emotionless eyes; often calling him a freak.

Now that he's heard it again, not to mention being more of a freak than his polydactly twin brother....

_You... should **fucking** die....!_

Meanwhile, Ford ignored the burning sensation on his cheek, since Eric pulled him out of the way and smacked him in the face. He was really about to step in and beat the shit out of him, when he saw his broken little brother looking all... murdery.

_Oh no!_

Eric on the other hand was not noticing Stan's expression of pure anger. Instead, he kept on laughing at the silent twin. "Aw... Is the defect clone looking a little sad now? What a crybaby! Maybe I should teach him about discipline!"

That did it. First he called him a freak and now he has the audacity to call him a defect too? Stan looked up at Eric, cold eyes boring into his evil one's. He mentally thought to himself.

_I will kill you._

And proceeded to kick the stop sign right beside him, leaving a huge dent, falling from its position straight into the sidewalk.

Ford's eyes widened at the overwhelming strength his brother was giving. He was definetely reminded of what Sharon told him about Stan's short temper when it came to words.

Eric meanwhile was left quivering in fear, seeing this display of violence radiating from his target. Stan looked at him with raw anger in his dull eyes, causing him to back away a bit.

Stan walked up to Eric and pulled him by the collar. Eric gasped, too scared to even think about breaking free. His eyes averted to the notepad in the dude's hands. His eyes widened even more.

_WANT ME TO DO THE SAME TO YOUR **FACE?**_

Eric shook his head. "NO! NO PLEASE!" He then proceeded to struggle a bit, but to no avail. "PLEASE! JUST LET ME GO! I DON'T WANT IT IN THE FACE!!!"

Stan's eyes narrowed at how pathetic this dude was being. Just goes to show that people are just all bark and no bite. He raised his broken fist at Eric, anticipating a punch. He smiled. He was going to enjoy this.

That was until his eyes averted to his older twin, whom was staring at him in utter fear.

"Stanley...?" Ford called out, one arm reaching out to him. The voice he gave was so quiet, but it felt like Stan could hear loud and clear.

Stan saw that expression on his face, wondering what's gotten him so startled. It was then he looked at the broken stop sign and blinked, realizing on what he truly done.

He did all of this. He showed what his broken mind can really do given how bad the situation can be, usually when abuse was aimed towards him. The worst part about it was that he did it in front of Ford!

_What the hell have you done?_

At that moment, Stan's eyes reverted back to its broken gaze, turning back to look at this person in his hands, still full of fear.

There was still a part of him that wanted him to get beaten up, so he wouldn't be hurt anymore. It would've been so easy... but then again, nothing was ever was easy in this world.

Stan let go of Eric, his entire body crumpling to the floor. The college student sat up from the sidewalk, looking at the broken twin wide eyed. He was confused, yet still scared.

He stood up slowly, shaken by the close proximity between the two and the aggressive aura that he can see through his eyes. Stan's eyes narrowed. Is he gonna fight back or something or what?

"W-What do you want from me?!" Eric asked, stuttering. "I-I'll do anything! Just... don't beat me up!"

The younger twin sighed. He really is just all talk. He scribbled something down and held up his notepad, giving an expression of remorse, but still bitter. _I WANT YOU TO GET OUT OF HERE AND NEVER BOTHER US AGAIN, YOU HEAR ME?_

At this Eric nodded fearfully, immediately going for the request. "Y-Yes! I'll... I'll do it right now!!! I won't bother the two of you from this day forward! I swear!"

And with that, the college student flees, possibly to escape into his dorm and be locked there forever due to the trauma that probably came with it.

Stan watches Eric zip across the street in glorious fashion, trails of dust leaving behind. Ford meanwhile walked over to him, searching for any sort of injuries.

"Are you alright?" The scientist asked, worry in his voice. He put a hand on Stan's bruised cheek, giving a soft gesture. "He didn't hurt you too bad did he?"

Stan blinked, feeling Ford's affection seep through him once more. He was going to swat it away again like usual to reject the pity, but he didn't this time. Perhaps he was too tired to do so after that whole ordeal...

_IT'S FINE.... I'VE BEEN THROUGH WORSE..._

That answer didn't make Ford feel any better though. He looked at the broken stop sign with unease, wondering if this was a bad idea to bring Stanley out in public like this given the trauma that was left in him.

He shook his head at the thought, realizing there's more good to be had with this than bad; There may be consequences for bringing Stanley outside, but at the end of the day it's all for him to recover.

Besides, if Ford told him that it was wrong to bring him out here, than it'll just bring Stan into some deep thoughts of self-deprecation. Ford knows he doesn't need that right now.

The eldest twin grabbed Stan's pale hand. "Come on, 'Ley..." He said, crossing the street. "The English building is close by. I think we've overstayed our welcome here."

Stanley nodded solemnly, eyes still staring at the broken sign in guilt, before looking away. _I'm sorry for the one who has to get that fixed..._

Ford took a glance at Stan's sullen face. He sighed, tightening his hold on his twin. "Listen... don't worry about that." He reassured. "Whatever you did... It's not your fault."

That was most definitely a lie in Stan's eyes, and he thinks Ford knows that too. That stop sign would've remained a stop sign if Stan hadn't kicked that thing to an oblivion. The words aren't reassuring to say the least.

Few minutes have passed, crossing another part of the street and maybe a few distractions. It was mainly Ford trying to change the subject from time to time and help Stan recover, possibly trying to get the dude to speak again. The younger twin really does see that Ford is trying his best here, but it just left him uninterested.

He would flat out write down something that basically tells Ford that this stuff isn't working, stop wasting your time already. But he knew damn well the older twin wouldn't take that too kindly.

After what seriously feels like an eternity (when in reality it was only 15 minutes), the brothers arrive at the English Building.

Ford checked the time on his watch. _9:10 A.M._ it read. It was basically only five minutes before class starts. In a sense he made it on time. He wishes he would've gotten here earlier.

 _No..._ His mind backpedaled. _Stan's recovery is more important than this. It was all worth it in the end. Remember that._

Ford opened the doors and signaled Stan to get inside, to which Stan obeys silently. The younger twin walked in there only to be greeted by the heater being on full blast.

"Yikes..." Ford commented walking in. "I guess this building just really can't handle the cold, huh?" He gives Stan a playful nudge, causing Stan to flinch a bit and stare at the nerd in slight fear.

Stan quietly grunted, rubbing the spot where Ford nudged him. _Ah... I wish that hurt me..._ He thought to himself. He knows damn well that these kind of actions were meant to show affection, but he always finds any sort of physical contact that isn't holding hands to be some sort of violent act.

Ford looked at Stan with sadness in his eyes, forgetting that his little brother isn't one for physical contact. He rubbed the back of his head. "I'm sorry... again." He said awkwardly. "I just keep forgetting that... you know..."

Stan shook his head, putting his hand up to give a gesture that says: No need to apologize. It's really not a big deal. Ford sighed. Stan is such a forgiving person; Though he wonders if he ever forgives himself.

The scientist grabs Stanley by the hand and the two of them walked down the hallways in silence. At some point, they turned left, they corner a right, it speaks for itself.

They passed by a few students that were giving the two a curious glance in their direction, mainly to the person who looks like utter shit by appearance alone. Stanford tried to ignore them, not wanting to deal with students judging his twin.

Stanford stopped at the classroom door, and let go of Stan's pale hand. _This is it._ He thought to himself. _Time to get to class._ Just as he was about to go inside, his mind stopped him.

 _You can't exactly bring Stanley in there. People are gonna question why you brought him here._ _Not to mention, he isn't the brightest when it comes to people talking about him._

That much was true. He can't bring his brother in there in the condition he's in. Ford sighed. He hated this, he really did. But, there's nothing he can do. Reluctantly, he turned to face Stanley, who was giving him a hint of confusion.

"Stay here, Stanley." Ford commanded, raising his hands slightly. To that Stan raised a brow. He scribbled something down, passing the notepad to his brother.

 _WHY?_ it said in all blocky letters. Ford looks away at Stan, trying to find the words. "Because... I have class here, meaning that I have to leave you alone for a bit."

Stan rolled his eyes. He put his hands in his pockets. He isn't surprised at this. Ford had to do his schoolwork at this time. And Stan wasn't exactly an enrolled student so...

He snatched the notepad out of Ford's hands. He wrote something below the previous answer. _I'M FINE WITH THAT... DO_ _YOUR SCHOOL THING OR WHATEVER._

To this, Ford's eyes narrowed. With this answer and Stan's expression when writing it down, something seemed a bit off. "Stan, are you sure? I mean... It's an hour. An hour may be a lot for you."

 _Jeez, what's his problem?_ Stan questioned himself, seeing this side of his brother. He's being all gentle weird again. It's kinda like how he remembered him before the... incident.

The broken twin's brain started to have a bit of a headache at that memory. God, remembering bad memories suck. It just never leaves Stan's head, no matter what he does.

_I just want to forget it..._

He decided to ignore it for now. He didn't want Ford to get suspicious of what his mind was going through. He already caused him enough trouble of taking care of him anyway.

_AN HOUR IS NOTHING. I'LL WAIT HERE._

Ford's blinked at this statement written down. His eyebrows furrowed. Nothing? What's that supposed to mean? "Okay, Stan." He responded, turning towards the classroom door. He stopped at the foot of the entrance, glancing back at Stan 

"Just promise me you won't wander off. When I get out of this classroom. I expect you to be the first thing I see, got it?"

Stan's eyes narrowed. _What? Does he not trust me to stay still for that long?_ Nonetheless, he shrugged. He didn't feel the need to write down an answer at this point.

Ford took a good look at Stan. His brother's expression never changed, so it was difficult to tell if he was lying or not. He would deny the weak response Stan gave him, but he didn't have the time. He had to get to class.

Ford nodded in response before taking ine last glance at Stan before heading inside the classroom to do his studies, leaving him behind.

From there he walked over to his usual seat; usually at the front. While he was waiting for class to begin he already started to think about his brother. Heck, his eyes started to avert to the door.

His thoughts started to go all haywire from there, thinking about a lot of possiblities Ford didn't want to see come to life.

 _Are you sure this is a good idea?_ His mind asked. _Despite how Stan responded to your command? If you ask me, that's already a red flag._

The college student shook his head, driving out the sense of doubt that's starting to creep up on him. _Stanley said he was fine with it. I have to go on his word!_

His mind wavered. _You put great trust in him. But do you think that maybe he's taking advantage of that? What if you decide to leave him alone and he ends off killing himself?_

This made Ford's heart ache at the thought, he didn't realize he was slamming this desk. _Don't even paint that scenario in my head! Dammit, I know Stanley would never in a million years would do this now that I'm around!_

Ford hate to admit this, but the doubt was too real from the start. His mind was thinking of the worse case scenarios and he almost started believing some of them. But on the other side, he knew Stanley would be fine; He has good faith in him.

In the end of this twisted scenarios popping up from time to time, Ford decided to go with his gut instinct. After all, Stan wouldn't break his promise... would he?

* * *

Stan put his entire well-being against the wall, staring at nothing in particular. He crossed his arms and closed his eyes, trying to think of a way to pass time.

He noted how quiet everything Is. Aside from the occasional college student walking around the area. It's strange to him. It all felt so familiar.

_It's just like the usual back at the hospital. He thought to himself. When I'm waiting for my daily dose of-_

Stan's brain stopped before finishing the sentence. He felt something out of nowhere, like someone stabbed him in the stomach. _Ow...! My head! Why does it-_ Before he knew it, his insides are on fire. He felt like he was about to throw up.

But he didn't, seeing as has to take full responsibility should the janitor walk by and see this mess, thus more work for him. Stan held it back in at this. He didn't want anyone to deal with his problems.

_You just don't want anyone to deal with you in general huh?_

Oh, the thoughts come back again, still as cruel and deep-throated as usual. Stan clutched his head with his good hand. _When will these horrible ideas fly away from his shock treated mind?_

_Hey now, these kind of ideas just don't fly by like the wind. You thought them up, therefore it's you that's making these kind of assumptions happen._

Stan's good hand was clinging onto his messy brown hair, trying to drown out these out of nowhere feelings. He felt like he wanted to pull his hair out one by one, because self care does not exist when it comes to himself.

He's starting to grow a headache now; and that was really the last thing he would want at this rate.

 _I gotta find a way to stop these tendencies from happening._ Stan thought to himself, taking deep breaths. _But how do I do that?_

It was then, his mind laughed at him, wanting to slap him in the face. _Are you fucking serious?_ It said, unamused. _Don't you even remember what you always do when it came to that?_

Stan shook his head, driving that dumb thought away. It didn't work as his mind basically screamed the answer to him.

_You always distract yourself with other things! It drives the point away! What are you standing around for? Distract!!!_

Despite how weird his mind is being, Stan obeyed, averting his emotionless eyes to the west part of the hallway. It was then he felt his heart racing at the end of the hallway. He's not sure for certain, but he feels like he wants to go there.

 _Yeah..._ Stan agrees to himself, walking forward. _Maybe I'll feel much better if I just find something that'll make the time fly by..._

Unbeknownst to him, he was moving away from the classroom Ford was in. Stan felt like he was forgetting something important at the moment, but didn't pay too much attention to it.

He just felt like.... drifting off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mind is a fickle thing isn't it?
> 
> Stan had one job...


	10. Burden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alone to drown in your thoughts?
> 
> Or are you alone to drown in your insanity?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, people!
> 
> Back at it again with another chapter! I will say, I'm going to keep this chapter relatively short seeing as how my phone can only do so much...
> 
> But, I think I've kept you guys waiting long enough. Let's pick up from where we left off shall we?

Walking around the hallways was rather disorienting to Stan.

Everything around you looks the same. The walls have a similar pattern, the choice of marble for the flooring, it's like you're in a secluded room with no windows.

It didn't bother him before. Westwood Mental Hospital had something similar of the sort, but this? This wracked Stan's head in more times that it can count with the more complex patterns it was giving.

His eyes started to blur a lot more than usual too, as if his vision wasn't so unbelievably poor already.

 _Take it easy..._ He reassured himself, trying to keep his legs from buckling due to the stress. _You're not at that dumb hospital anymore. No one is deciding to give you any shit at the moment._

His mind wasn't wrong though. There isn't anyone around trying to give him a hard time. The only thing that he should be worrying about is steadying himself with his surroundings.

It was rather hard for him. With his blurred vision due to the stress, he ends up bumping into everything. Sometimes, his headache gets worse after a while when he starts zig-zagging around without even knowing it.

_It shows, doesn't it? You can't seem to get any sort of decent footing without guidance. **Dependent** as always aren't we?_

At this, Stan clutched his head with his good hand, begging for his inner voice to shut up. He didn't need this right now, even though what it was saying was true.

Stan didn't even know where he was at this point. He was so lost in his too cruel thoughts to even realize he was still walking forward. It was then he heard something faint; It echoed in his ears.

"Hey there... Are you alright?"

Stan blinked, all of his recurring thoughts just completely vanished into thin air. He put his head up and turned to the noise. It was a young woman, most likely his age. She had blond hair and blue eyes, looking at him curiously.

The young twin looked away, unable to respond to her due to how he was feeling, he was fumbling for his notepad but ended up dropping on the floor due to his clumsiness.

 _God...!_ His mind screamed, laughing at his misery. _You freeze up at the first lady you've seen ever since your release. Embarrassing ain't it?_

Stan knew that to be true. He's never was good at responding to anyone, let alone those that were attempting to try and have a conversation with him.

He knows how it goes; He doesn't say anything, therefore they take advantage of his one weakness. They would beat him up, taunt him, crush any self-esteem he had left in him. That's how it is and will always be.

Just when he was about to kneel down and pick up his belongings, it seems that the lady was three steps ahead of him. "Sorry... I guess that was kind of outta nowhere." She said, handing the things over to the mute.

Stan took them away from her hands, holding onto them tightly. He shrugged, giving her a gesture of: _It's alright. Don't worry about it._

He scribbled something onto his notepad, before showing it to her. _WHAT IS SOMEONE LIKE YOU DOING IN THE HALLWAYS?_

The blondie hummed. "Well, I can ask you the same thing." She answered, looking at this messy person. Her eyes averted to the door. "Me? I'm just waiting for my class. It doesn't start until an hour and a half from now."

This left Stanley confused. He continued to write. _WHAT? THEN WHY SHOW UP NOW WHEN YOU HAD ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD TO DO ANYTHING ELSE BUT THAT?_

The student let out a giggle, amused at this silly question. "What else? It's better to be early. Plus, I'm very paranoid whenever I think of traffic, so I'm not taking any chances for that."

Stan hummed. It's understandable. He can see why Ford would do the same.

Speaking of Ford, he felt like he was forgetting something. It left him with a strange feeling that he can't quite understand. He rubbed the back of his head in response, trying to figure out what he was supposed to be doing.

_".... here, Stanley. Don't.... off.... I want.... get.... classroom...."_

Stan could hear bits and pieces of it, but he can't exactly remember what Ford actually said to him. In fact, trying to connect the dots just made his headache slightly worse than usual.

"Sir? You still with me?"

The younger twin blinked, looking back up at the blonde lady. She gave a look of concern, trying to figure out what's on his mind.

Stanley turned pink in embarrassment, flipping a page in his notepad. _SORRY... WERE YOU SAYING SOMETHING?_ It read, leaving the student perplexed.

"Yeah..." She answered, putting her hands on her hips. "I was wondering where you were going." She lifted her finger up. "Also, why do you prefer writing things down? It's not like you're deaf or anything, you can clearly understand me."

 _She asks a lot of questions to somebody that can't find anything worthwhile in life._ Stan thought to himself, rolling his eyes. Nonetheless, he continued to write.

_IT'S EASIER THAN TALKING. DON'T ASK WHY, THAT'S JUST HOW IT IS TO ME._

_Lies..._ His mind said, amused. _You know that's not the case. In reality, when you're worthless, everything is nothing. What you do means nothing. Talking means nothing._

_You mean **nothing.**_

The lady hummed, "Huh... Okay then! I won't judge." Her gaze faltered a bit, looking a bit shy. "If you ask me... it makes you look mysterious... I like that..."

Stan can see that she's turning a bit pink at this. Normally, he would see this as an accomplishment; the fact that girls find him attractive would've made him go nuts. Now, it just made him feel weird.

He felt his heart beat ever so slowly. He clutched his chest, feeling it go faster. He never felt it beat so passionately in so long...

_It... hurts...!_

Stan started coughing, the gross sound echoing across the halls. This frightened the college student, putting her hands up.

"Whoa, Whoa!" She called out, worried for her new acquaintance. "Are you alright?!" She attempted to reach out to him, performing a comforting gesture.

Stan, being the kind of person who doesn't like any sort of physical contact, swatted the hands away on reflex. This made the lady confused, yet feel a bit hurt at that.

"Hey, what was that for?" She asked, tilting her head. "I was only trying to calm you down."

All Stan could do was stare at her wide-eyed. He started shaking like he was in a freezer. This made the blondie worry, trying to reach out to him once again, to which the younger twin backed away.

"Are you okay?!" She asked, concerned for his well being. Stan face scrunched up at how genuinely nice this person is. She's acting like someone he already knew.

At this point, he couldn't take it anymore. His heartbeats are starting to hurt a lot. Before the lady could do anything, he swiveled around and started dashing down the hallways.

"HEY WAIT!" She called out, reaching out. "WHERE ARE YOU GOING? I DIDN'T EVEN GET YOUR...."

Before she could finish her sentence, the mysterious person was already out of her sight. This left her bewildered at this turn of events. _Who was that guy?_

Stan meanwhile was continuing to run. Where his legs went, he never knew. He didn't even know he was going that fast; It left a a trail of dust behind him. If anyone saw him pass by, they would've felt the wind rush through them.

Stan took a sharp turn, and then another huge sprint to wherever in particular. Before he knew it, he was in one of the restrooms.

After that, his adrenaline started to drop like a stack of bricks. It left him gasping for air; The body needed a lot of time to recuperate. Stan choked, it wasn't a good thing to feel, and before he knew it he started to feel nauseous.

On instinct, he went into one of the stalls and started to wrech out everything that was inside of him. It burns his stomach to no end, like he was the heater inside the building.

He knew that some students are going to hear the gross sound of someone vomiting from here (granted, the walls aren't exactly soundproof as people may seem), but he can't help himself.

Just when it felt like forever, the nausea stopped. He was able to breathe a bit, but just barely. Stan knelt down to his knees, hands clutching the toilet bowl.

 _C'mon, Stanley... Breathe..._ He told himself, taking slow methodical breaths. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest from all that vomitting.

His vision started to clear a bit after five minutes, he looked down inside the toilet bow to see that there was something red in there. Stan gasped. It was blood.

 _What the hell...?_ He thought, eyes widening. _That's never happened before....!_ The sight of red water made him feel sick again, but this time he resisted it, even if his stomach burned (That's probably not healthy).

Stan stood up slowly, knees shaking from the adrenaline. He used his bandaged hand to hit the flush, seeing the whirlpool of red water drain from the toilet.

The silent twin exited the stall in a rather dizzy fashion. He can feel his knees start to buckle once more, but he kept his balance.

Stan walks over to the sink, slurred hands sloppily turning on the faucet. The sounds of water echoed in his ears. It felt... nice for once in his life.

He started cupping his hands, trying to fill them with water before splashing it all over his pale face. Some of it went into his messy hair, but he didn't pay too much attention to it.

Stan's vision started to clear up, and when it did the first thing he saw... was a mirror.

The young twin took a good look at himself. It was... not pleasing to say the least. In fact, he looked worse than usual. He couldn't tell, but his skin started to get paler by the second.

Stan put his hand near the glass, observing himself further. _Is this... me?_ His eyes widened, blinking occasionally at the reflection before him.

_It's as real as you want it to be, Stanley._

Stan blinked, hearing that familiar voice in his head. He looked at the mirror again, only to be greeted by someone he hasn't seen in so long through the reflection.

The silent twin looked away, disgusted at seeing a version of himself he didn't want to see. _What do you want now?_ He asked himself. _Haven't you messed with me enough?_

His inner self laughed. _Haha! Oh come off it, Stanley! The only thing that's messing you up is yourself!_

Stan hated to believe that, but it wasn't wrong. After all, his thoughts were all his. It was like guilt or doubt that starts growing on a person as the days go by.

 _You've been real busy finding a way to distract yourself!_ It continues, crossing it's arms. _Deciding to disregard Ford's orders?_

Stan blinked. _Ford's orders? That's crazy! I never disregarded-_ He stopped for a moment, thinking back to the faded voice of his twin brother.

_"Just promise me you won't wander off. When I get out of this classroom. I expect you to be the first thing I see, got it?"_

His eyes widened. _Th-that's right! Ford! He told me to- But I-_ Stan turned around. _I have to get back there before I-_

The mirror started to perform a shrill laugh, stopping Stan in his tracks. He turned around to see the amused and quite evil reflection staring down at him.

 _Now why would you want to do that?_ It asked, rolling it's eyes. _Haven't you already caused enough trouble for him now that you basically **disobeyed** him?_

 _What?_ Stan questioned. _Disobey? You told me to distract myself!_ His breathing started to become ragged _. You told me to go down that hallway...! You...._ He hugged himself, shutting his eyes. _You **manipulated** me!!!!_

To that, his mind scoffed. _Oh Stanley, you're so foolish. I didn't manipulate anyone! That was all you!_

Stan's breathing hitched, pulling himself tighter against the world around him. It was like the background was all black and all he could see was the mirror.

 _Come on now, Stan! Really?_ The reflection laughed. _We've been over this for a long time! Or have you already forgotten our last conversation back in Connecticut?_

Stanley shook his head. He doesn't want to remember any of it, not when he was one day away from that slump.

 _Perhaps I didn't try hard enough like last time...._ It continued, eyes narrowing. _Maybe I should give you a reminder about why you are the way you are!_

There were many versions of himself surrounding the broken minded man. There was a child, a teenager, and many more of his personas during his days on the streets. They all gave a line. One that Stan always remembered. Ones can clearly haunt his memories.

_"I just want Pa to like me....!"_

_"I don't need you! I don't need anyone!"_

There were more voices to be heard from the others, but the twin was too caught in his own emotional baggage to even acknowledge those words.

 _Please...._ Stan mentally begged. He was down on his knees and covering his ears, trying to block out all the words. _Please, stop.....!_

His reflections continued to laugh at him, getting louder as they moved closer. Stan shook his head, swatting at nothing to make them all disappear.

_You can't push away all those insecurities when you know it's the **truth!**_

It was then he opened his eyes to see that the mirror was a bit close to him now. But what he saw in that reflection wasn't exactly him.

What he saw was someone with a familiar face.... almost like.

_Stanford...?_

It was then the reflection of his former twin brother started to give an expression of disappointment. Stanley didn't like it. Stanford must've been upset at what he did; ignoring his orders. He tried to find the words to say, but couldn't.

_Please...! I'm sorry! Whatever I did, I never meant to-_

The reflection turned away at him, causing Stan to grow paler than usual. It glanced back, a hateful expression plastered on his face.

_"Why would I ever bother taking care of someone like you?"_

Stan gasped, shook at his brother's words. And with that, the reflection walked away, abandoning Stan once more.

_No... please! Please don't leave....!_

The voices continue to echo in the darkness, his inner self laughing in the distance.

_Your way of life is funny isn't it? I can see why they call you the "Personality"._

Stan frantically looked around, trying to find a way out of this hell. But, all he can ever see are the many versions of him; the parts of him drowning his brain like some sort of void.

His memories started to drift into the moments where he refused Stanford's assistance; his affection. It gave him a huge headache.

_Fuck...! I know I did dumb shit! Just stop rubbing it in!!!_

_Oh, I love hearing that._ His mind hummed. _You need help now, but when you finally receive it, you don't want anything to do with it. Says a lot about your personality ain't it?_

The laughs echoed once more, trying to solidify something. _How long before Ford realizes that you don't deserve to be helped because you refuse too?_

Stanley started to get really agitated. He can't take this anymore. He wants to break free. He wants to find peace from his inner conflict.

But people like him...?

_You don't deserve kindness.... You never did._

_You always were a **burden...**_

_SHUT. **UP!!!**_

Stan punched the mirror with all of his anger, hearing a very loud crash when it connected. It was followed by the small sounds of glass bouncing down on the restroom floor. From there the darkness ceased and he was able to see color again... Only... he realized where he was now, and the mirror was-

He gasped, realizing what he had done. He moved his hand away from the now broken mirror, seeing that some of the glass fell off from it.

 _Oh no no!!! What did- What did I do!?!?_ He screamed to himself at the damage he caused. It wracked his head. That line sounded familiar to him.

On instinct, Stan picked up the glass shards and attempted to try and piece the mirror back together, but that turned out to be futile in the long run.

Meanwhile his mind continued to laugh at him. _Oh boy!_ It called out. _Trying to fix something that can't be fixed? You know mirrors don't work that way. They're like car windows!_

 _Hehe... Like the car you don't have anymore._..

At that sentence, Stan's stomach lurched. He couldn't contain another round of that nausea feeling as he wreched it out. Since he was covering his mouth with his hand, the vomit was all over him.... Stan looked at his now sticky hand with utter shock.

_It's not vomit... It's **blood...**_

Shaking his head at seeing the horrible discovery once more, Stan continued trying to piece the mirror back together, but the glass shards kept falling off the frame. _**No!!!**_ He screamed to himself, sloppily trying to pick up the shattered pieces. _I_ _can fix this! Please....! I can fix this!!!_

The cracked mirror showed many reflections of Stan's inner self. It was terrifying to the silent twin seeing it. It was like a bunch of people pointing and laughing at the misery in front of them.

At this point, Stan gave up trying to fix it. He fell to his knees and curled himself into a ball, trying to block out the laughter that only he could ever hear.

 _Don't you see, Stanley?_ His mind taunted him. _You always let your anger get the better of you! And when that happens, you break things that can't be **fixed!**_

Stan continued to curl tighter into a ball. _Please.... Stop it....!_

His mind didn't hold back on the hateful words. _It's just like Ford's science project from years ago! It was the cause of your downfall!_ A dark chuckle can be heard. _You've spent your entire life trying to prove everyone wrong, but it all turned out to be nothing in the end! Let's face it, there's no one to blame from the life that you led than yourself!_

Stan's breathing started to quicken. If he could cry, he would be. There would be a waterfall by now... But, there was none of that. It was all just dry sobbing. It looks weird but it hurts just as much.

 _Please....!_ His thoughts screamed to nobody. _Please make it stop....! Please make the pain go away....!_

His mind's demeanor suddenly shifted at Stan's soft pleas. It's voice sounding more... sympathetic. More gentle. _There is... one thing you can do..._

Stan's painful and dull eyes opened to the sound of something shiny. He lifted his head up to see a lone glass shard underneath the sink.

Without even thinking. He crawled over there and picked it up, examining it with his vomit stained hand. The mirror shard was like a triangle... almost like a....

 _Do the thing you normally do, Stanley._ His mind commanded. _You did this a lot when you hated yourself... Do you still have that?_

That much was true. Stan still hated himself even if he was out of that cursed mental hospital. While he was aiming the shard towards his forearm, something didn't seem quite right with him. It was like he was forgetting something. _But... Ford..._

His mind shook his head at the mention of his twin brother. This was it. It's time for the final push. _Think of it like this, Stanley... You can spare Ford the pain of having to deal with you... Most importantly... You don't have to be a **burden** anymore._

With that thought in mind, Stan pressed the sharp part of the glass into his pale skin, and within no time, it started to bleed.

The scrapes used to hurt back then when Stan first tried it... but after doing it for so long, it started to feel numb. He didn't feel any pain.

 _There we are..._ His mind commented. _Just like old times._

Stan didn't know how he was feeling at the moment. A part of his mind thought this was wrong... but on the other hand, he was smiling.

Smiling through the pain.

 _I'm sorry, Ford._ Stan thought sorrowfully as he continued to cut himself with the mirror shards. He looked down at his arm; All scratched up and bloody.

Just the way he liked it...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen... having terrible thoughts like this and doing those kind of actions... It's not fun.
> 
> And I should know.


	11. Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the damage is done what you do now? Imagining the worst is enough for someone to be dragged into tears.
> 
> Isn't that right, Stanford?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha! Didn't think I would update this early after the previous chapter eh?
> 
> As I've stated before in my previous chapter, I ripped off a chunk of it to put it into this one. In doing so, the chapter was 90% done.
> 
> Don't get used to it though... it may be awhile before I post another one pretty soon.

Time sometimes move so slowly. What can seem like decades can be like an hour. For some people, they prefer this. They don't care about the time and rather just do what they want until the sun comes down.

But for someone like Stanford Pines.... good lord does he want the class to end already.

He didn't know how long it has been. Judging by the common lectures in the classroom, an hour still hasn't passed. It felt like an eternity, or rather... he was just impatient.

Impatient because... he was thinking about someone he left behind.

_Stanley..._

...He wonders what he's been up to now. Ford figured that he might be taking a nap out there, seeing as it was so quiet like his almost bug free dorm. Though in the back of his mind, it thought otherwise.

 _It's just so easy._ He thought to himself. _You believe what your brother said, so you'd back off for a while. Stanley said that he's fine by himself? Haha... That's what he **wants** you to think._

There it is again; the seeds of doubt that never seem to leave his brain. It was like a plague; something that drags a person back into a void. Stanford shook his head. His brain will not beat him this time.

That's how much he put his trust into his little brother. As he's thought of before, Stanley would never do such rash things now that he's around him.

_Are you ever so sure about that...?_

Stanford sighed, wanting to pull his hair or something to chase away every horrible scenario in his head. _Yes! I'm sure he is!_ He screamed out in his mind. Sure, the broken twin has its fair share of lows and tends to avoid physical contact, but that does not mean he should be watched over so often like some sort of lost kid.

In fact, Stan being described as a lost kid isn't far off the mark. It was basically the reason Ford started to become such a protective mother hen. Looking back at it, he never actually delve deeper into Stanley's thoughts.

What exactly does Stanley do on his free time? When he's not asleep? When the stuff on the medical doesn't fit into the equation? Most importantly...

Why can't he accept Ford's love and affection?

While he was dwelling in his own thoughts, he heard his instructor say something along the lines of, "Well, it seems that we're out of lecture time, people." Ford looked up at the clock. His eyes weren't decieving him.

It was 10:15 am on the dot. Ford blinked, as if he was seeing things. Just to be sure he looked at his watch. His mind wasn't playing tricks this time, it really is over.

"Alright, class... I'll see you next week."

_It's about time..._

Ford stood up from his chair with all of his belongings in hand and proceeded to leave the classroom, but not before he was interrupted by a certain instructor. 

"Stanford Pines?"

Ford blinked. He turned around to face his instructor, a little perplexed. What could he want that's so important? "Y-Yes?"

"Is something the matter? While I was lecturing, you seemed to have been staring at the door most of the time." The instructor flipped the pages around in his textbook. "Was there someone you wanted to walk in?"

Stanford hummed. _Oh boy..._ He knows how this teacher works. He always likes to be in everyone's business, even if those kinds of businesses are rather too personal. Stanford would explain himself, given that he's truthful...

But not this time.

"There wasn't anyone. I worked ahead of time last night, so it was just kind of a repeat from what I've wrote down. I might as well have shown up, seeing as I've got nothing better to do. You know how it is."

It was sort of a white lie in itself. He did have something better to do, attendance was a thing in this course, but the instructor didn't seem to catch that. He nodded, seeing the student's understanding.

"I see... that makes sense." He said, writing down some notes for the next scheduled lecture. "Well, you have a nice day, Mr. Pines."

The college student nodded, feeling at ease at the slight predicament. He didn't want to wait around any longer now that he basically left Stanley there outside the door for a while.

Ford walked out of the classroom door, a bunch of notes written down in organized fashion in his hands. He was too focused on reviewing them to see what he was actually looking for as soon as he left the room.

"Sorry it took so long, Stanley." Ford says, looking at the next set of notes. "I hope an hour didn't cause you a lot of boredom. Sometimes time can go slower because of it." He chuckled a bit at that. He was expecting Stan to respond at this rate, but... Something was wrong.

"Stanley?" Ford asked again, not hearing an answer or rather the sounds of writing in his ears. At this, the eldest twin looked up, seeing that....

Stanley wasn't here.

Ford's eyes widened. This made him drop all of his notes onto the floor, looking left and right to find no sight of his brother. He gasped. He couldn't tell, but he was actually shivering in fear.

 _No...! No, No, **No!!!**_ His brain screamed. "STANLEY!? STANLEY, WHERE ARE YOU?!"

He didn't know that someone behind him was looking at him like he was some crazy kid. Ford didn't care though as he started sprinting to god knows where, leaving all of his notes behind. Along the way, his thoughts taunted him, scolding

_You knew you shouldn't have put so much trust in your brother's words... Did you **really** think he wasn't gonna do something rash when you aren't around?_

"Shut up!!!" Ford cried out to his thoughts, running down the hallways like some sort of madman. He didn't care if the other college students were looking at him weirdly. He just had to find Stanley.

He turned a corner to find a crossroad. Ford mentally cursed as he looked around, trying to figure out where Stanley had gone. Shit! _He could be anywhere in this entire building!_ He thought frantically. _He might actually be outside the area wandering off to god knows where!_

Ford's mind is going into a blind state of panic if he doesn't find a way to track Stanley down. "Ugh!!!" He cried out. "I should've bugged those clothes or something! How could you be this stupid, Stanford!?" He really didn't think this through. What is he going to do now?

"Excuse me? Are you alright sir?"

Ford blinked, turning his head towards the sound of the noise. His breath hitched as he saw a student with blonde hair, looking at him like he was a deer on headlights. The twin shook his head. "Um... I'm alright!" He answered, straightening up. "It's just something else was just on my mind, hence the entire adrenaline I had in me and-"

The blonde lady stiffened, creeped out a hit by Ford's fast tongue. "Uh..."

Ford shook his head, ignoring the awkwardness between the interaction. "Nevermind that. It's not important!" Instead, he pulled out a photo from his trenchcoat; a recent photo of his broken brother. He took it off the paperclip in that medical file.

"Have you seen someone who looks like this?" Stanford asked frantically, photo shaking in his hands. "He wears a red jacket too!"

"Huh? That guy?" The lady asked, blinking. She started looking away, lost in thought. "So I wasn't crazy after all."

Stanford felt a little dumbfounded at that statement (seeing as how he has to find Stan or this lady is just stalling for whatever reason). "What's that supposed to mean!?"

The lady shook her head, trying to block out the unnecessary thoughts. "Ah, when I saw you, I just thought I saw double for a moment there. That's all." She looked to the side. "I was gonna say something along the lines of 'It's you again' for a moment there, but it seems that I'm talking to the wrong guy." A pause, before she rubbed the back of her head. "You two related?"

Ford rolled his eyes. "Of course we are. I happen to be his brother!" He looked around the hallways, finding any sight of him. "And now he has wandered off and I need to find him!"

"Huh?" She asked curiously. "Why? I mean... that would explain the-"

"Because I need to, dammit!!!" Stanford yelled out, unhappy that he isn't getting anywhere with her. "He's not in a good state right now, and I need to find him before he does something really stupid!" He puts his foot down, "I'll ask again. Which way did he go?!"

The college student tensed at the scientist's anger towards herself. _This one's so demanding. Calm down, will you?_ Nonetheless, she obliged. She's got nothing else to say to him.

"I saw him run down that hallway." She answered, pointing to that said direction. "Pretty quiet guy, he didn't seem like much of a talker... In fact, when I was trying to help him, he looked like he was about to throw up. I think he was going to one of the rest-"

And before she knew it, that weird scientist was gone, already speeding down the hallways.

"...rooms." She finished, watching him leave the area. In the end, she shrugged, at least her slight dilemma was done an over with. She had other things to do in this wacky college campus.

Meanwhile, Stanford was dashing across the hallways, continuing to not give a shit about the college students staring at him. He sharply turns left, He jumps over a wet floor, heck he even slid down under a wide piece of glass two students were carrying. It didn't matter!

He needs to get to Stanley before anything-

The eldest twin's shoes screeched as he reached the closest men's restroom. His gut instinct led him here. It was either that or he listened to that airhead of a lady. Whatever the case may be, he wasn't going to doubt himself this time. His little brother had to be in there.

He had to. If he wasn't, then it would be just a huge waste of time now, would it?

When Stanford walked into the restroom, he couldn't believe what he was seeing right in front of him.

It was Stanley. He was there, holding a glass shard in his good hand, slicing it towards his wrist. Stanford gasped. Where on earth did his twin find that kind of object? He looked to his left to see one of the mirrors was cracked and broken. His eyes widened. That explains everything.

Stanford eyes peered over back to his twin, seeing the blood flow down from his pale arms. Not only that, it was on the floor too. He felt like a bucket of ice water was washed over him. Stanley already hurt himself! He was too late!

And he did all of this because Stanford left him alone for an hour, deciding to not trust his instincts and let Stan do as he was commanded.

Stanford couldn't take this anymore, not wanting to continue watching his little brother hurting himself with a sharp object. In fact, for just a single moment, Stanley was smiling at what he was done, and he hated it more than anything.

The eldest twin stepped forward, letting out a cry that sounded inhuman to him, but didn't care.

" _STANLEY FILBRICK PINES!!!!_ "

At that noise, Stan gasped. He clutched that glass shard tightly before turning to the source of the noise to see his brother, eyes full of fear. He didn't even realize he was doing the exact same expression he did.

Before he could even attempt to explain himself, He felt that glass shard being taken away and thrown to the side, pieces of it scattering across the floor.

Stan felt his hands being grabbed. "WHAT THE FUCK, DUDE?!" Ford yelled out, not even caring if there were some people outside the restroom hearing this conversation. This caused Stan to close his eyes at the shriek. "WHAT WAS THE ONE THING I TOLD YOU NOT TO DO!?"

Stanley wanted to say _'Wander off...'_ , but he didn't have the ability to answer that question as he quivered in fear. He was too focused on the tone of his brother's voice. Ford was mad at him. Furious even. _Fuck...! What have I done?! I made him angry at me like he did with the science fair project....!_

His mind laughed at him, feeling like this was just an accomplishment for maniplulation. _See what I mean? You were too late to end it all. You always cause a lot of trouble! It makes you wonder why your brother felt the need to take care of you._

_Because **you** can't take care of **yourself!**_

At this, Stan's breathing started to quicken. His thoughts started to hurt him to some extent that it became too unbearable. Sometimes he wishes he can hyperventilate to death.

If that were even possible.

"STANLEY, LOOK AT ME!!!" Ford commanded. Stanley obeyed now as he opened his eyes; There was no sign of light in those pupils, but Ford can tell that they were full of fear.

"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!?!?!" He shrieked, shaking his broken brother. "WHY WOULD YOU-" Ford couldn't keep his composure anymore. He buried his face into his broken twin's shoulder.

He wanted to yell at him. Berate him for doing something so stupid! It would be along the lines of: _I leave you alone for one fucking hour and you've already broken your promise....!!! Why would you lie to me, Stanley?! I trusted you!!!_

But he couldn't do that to him. He knows damn well Stan can't take outbursts or any sort of loud noise... but he already has done that to him, and that just made Ford worse as a result.

Stan on the other hand couldn't find anything else to do. He felt ashamed of himself. How do you come back from this?

Well, there is one thing. Stan couldn't believe he was considering it, but seeing as how he doesn't have his way of communication at the moment...

"I... I'm sorry, Ford..." Stan croaked out, tightening his hold. _I just... couldn't help myself..._

Ford squeaked, clinging onto his broken brother like a lifeline, with also the fact that he decided to speak on his own terms. At this, Ford was proud of him, but at the same time it sounded so monotone. At face value, it seemed wrong. It was fake.

Maybe... he just said that so he'd feel better. Ford didn't feel well at that thought.

_He probably reassured me that he'll be fine, so I'd probably leave him alone more often... Could that mean his way of showing any sort of gratitude was just a way to-_

Ford couldn't finish that thought. It hurt too much to think about. Instead, the tears kept going, and the college student felt like they were never going to stop.

"Shit...!" Ford said, continuing to bury his face in Stan's shoulder. He sobbed, tightening his hold on his broken brother as if he would disappear should he let go. "That's the last time I'm leaving you alone....!!! _Goddamn....!!!_ "

Stan's eyes looked down, feeling the wet patch on his shoulder. He sighed, rubbing the back of his brother in attempt to comfort him. He felt that it was the least he could do.

_He needs more comforting than me..._

His mind chuckled, amused at this tender moment, whilst still relishing in its own maniplulation. _Look at that... You were only one day in and you've already broken your promise..._

That he did. Stan knew that from the beginning. It's just that he couldn't help himself when his mind is all fucked in the head. He was used to doing the things he did because he thought it was just right.

 _Not only did I cause pain for myself, but for Ford as well..._ At this, he started to hate himself more, because this wasn't supposed to happen.

_Amazing ain't it? You're a failure in the eyes of your family **and** you also bring everyone to tears?! Hehe... You really are a burden..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Think about this... if you ever decide to go through with self-harm, how would the others feel?
> 
> It's not a good thing to think about now, is it?


End file.
